


No Bridges Burning

by BrightWingsAndBroomsticks



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Alternate Universe - No Monsters, Cas has abandonment issues, Community Parenting, Conveniently Relevant Song Lyrics, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Family Reunions, Idiots in Love, Jess is a damn inspiration, Light Angst, Long Distance Fail, M/M, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Photographer Castiel (Supernatural), Pining Castiel (Supernatural), Recovering Addict Sam Winchester, Strained Friendships, Wedding Day Pranks, Wedding Fluff, Well-adjusted Winchesters, backyard wedding, mentions of past substance abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 02:36:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19098022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightWingsAndBroomsticks/pseuds/BrightWingsAndBroomsticks
Summary: Castiel is determined to enjoy this weekend. Sam Winchester, his brother in all but blood, is getting married, and their whole patchwork family will finally be together again. It's going to be a blast.That is, provided Cas can shove down his decades-long crush on the best man, and make nice with Lisa - the very woman who has made Dean forget Castiel was once his best friend. No problem, right?But when it turns out things aren't quite as they seem, will Cas make it out of this weekend with his heart in tact?





	No Bridges Burning

Cas’s car was mocking him, he was sure of it.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, saving the money he could have spent getting his ancient Continental outfitted with an iPod dock by sticking with old CDs and the radio. It would be like a charming high school throwback whenever he took a road trip. Fun, right?

Well, an hour into this particular road trip, and he was wishing he’d spent the damn money. 

If he was being rational, he would have been able to admit that it wasn’t the car’s fault. It wasn’t even the CD- he loved this album. The problem was the trip itself. He was a single man driving home alone to attend a wedding, and he was miserable. Not because he wasn’t happy for the couple- it would be a lovely wedding. And he hadn’t been able to really see the whole of their patchwork family together in one place in 6 or 7 years. It was practically a reunion, and he was excited to see them all. They weren’t the problem. 

The problem was Dean. 

It wasn’t Dean’s wedding, of course. Thank goodness. Though, it was probably only a matter of time on that front as well. Dean had settled down in Florida with Lisa about 5 years ago, and had never given any hint of looking back. He was happy with her, that had been clear since the two first connected in college, at least as far as Cas could tell. It seemed the once wild boy was settling down to a sensible adult life much sooner than any of the family had anticipated, complete with marriage and mortgage. It sounded distressingly idyllic. 

Castiel was determined to enjoy this weekend despite the problem of Dean, at least for Sam’s sake. Despite the fact that he had barely heard a word from his once-best-friend in the last several years. Despite the fact that he couldn’t see any place for himself in Dean’s world of oncoming domestic bliss, even in this age of connecting technologies. Cas didn’t want to be a mess this weekend, no matter how much he missed Dean in his life. He wanted to enjoy himself. 

The trouble with that plan was that his car’s CD player was definitely mocking him. 

_So, I’ll file away all my dreams_  
_Though I still believe in everything_

__

_I wished your love away_  
_I wished your love away_

__

It was starting to make his skin itch. Well, it was starting to make him think about things that he thought he had pushed down and away years ago, never to be considered again, and that was making his skin itch. But here he was, lost in a circular melody, spiraling into dangerous thoughts as he barreled down a boring Midwestern highway. 

The Winchesters were his family by rights, if not by blood. Cas had grown up down the street from their house, had played at the park with the two younger boys on and off in his early youth. Then, when Mama had gotten sick, Mary had collected the Novaks. She was a notorious collector of people in their town- legend had it when Bobby Singer had lost his wife, she had given him exactly one month to wallow, then had marched down to his house with all of her boys and an enormous casserole, and thrown a makeshift dinner party in his house, whether he liked it or not. She had always been casually friendly with Ellen Harvelle, who ran the local bar, but when her husband passed, Mary simply adopted her along with her daughter Jo. It was just her way, and the Novaks were no exception. 

Dean and Cas, only a year apart, had connected immediately. Even at 8, Dean had a way of engaging and exciting anyone around him, and that energy kept Cas above water while Mama spent those 2 years in and out of the hospital. After the cancer finally took her, the Winchesters kept Cas and his dad close, inviting them to dinner at least twice a week, helping herd Cas to after school activities when Chuck was “in the zone” with his work, and even bringing the Novaks along on their family vacations.

Those vacations had been a true highlight for Cas when he was growing up. It was always a rowdy group, with the Harvelles, the Winchesters, Bobby, and at least one of the two remaining Novaks. They would all drive up to Ellen’s lake house and spend a week or so simply being there together. It was pure heaven, as far as Cas was concerned. 

In a perfect world, this weekend would be heavenly as well. Sam had wanted to get married at the lake house, and Ellen had been happy to make that happen, despite his rather brief engagement. They would all be there again, together at the scene of so many beloved memories, inviting some wonderful new people into their large, lively clan and celebrating two brilliant young people in love. Most of Cas was thrilled. If only that deep nagging voice in his head would stop trying to ruin it all with weird thoughts about Dean. 

_Honestly over you_  
_Honestly over you_  
_One lie short of true_  
_Honestly over you_

____

Fed up, Cas changed to the next song. This was getting ridiculous. 

If the song wasn’t so on the nose, it would be fine. But deep down, Cas was fully aware that he had been in love with Dean Winchester, to some degree, since at least the age of 14. That had been a complicated epiphany to reckon with, especially while he was in the midst of coming out. And when, a couple of years later, Dean himself had come out as bisexual? Well, that had been downright terrifying. It had been one thing when his best friend was simply “the golden boy”, the wonderful but unattainable straight kid that he would pine for until his dying day with no hope of returned affections. But the actual possibility of it was almost worse. They had always been so close, not quite brothers, but much more than friends, and Cas had been unwilling to risk that bond for a selfish desire. So, he had kept his feelings to himself, dated others, and moved on. Or, well, moved forward, at least. 

_Well, diamonds they fade_  
_And flowers they bloom_  
_And I'm telling you_  
_These feelings won't go away_  
_They've been knockin' me sideways_  
_They've been knockin' me out, babe_  
_Whenever you come around me_  
_These feelings won't go away_  
_They've been knockin' me sideways_  
_I keep thinking in a moment that_  
_Time will take them away_  
_But these feelings won't go away_

____

Oh, hell no. This song was even worse. 

Cas tried to recalibrate, look out at the road, focus on the music and ignore the lyrics, think about literally anything else. No dice. He gave up entirely, and popped out the CD. 

The silence was, naturally, even worse. In the absence of music came a ghost of that same haunting melody, richly accompanied by dangerous memories. Memories of summers at the lake and walks home from school and Christmas evenings in the Winchesters’ basement. All complete with Dean’s encouraging smile, his inviting eyes bright with excitement and affection. And, then, when the memories began to contain Lisa, well…Cas hated that he honestly liked her, because he envied her so deeply it physically hurt sometimes. Needless to say, it had felt like a blessing when he had missed seeing Dean and Lisa during his last visit home this Christmas. Much to his own guilt, Cas had found Christmas even more enjoyable in their absence, happily spending lazy afternoons with his family without the nagging awareness of Dean and Lisa pulling his focus. They had come up at New Year’s, apparently, but he had conveniently gone back home by then. 

Why couldn’t he have borrowed a book on tape from the library or something? Or even burned some podcasts onto a CD before leaving? Stupid ancient car making everything more complicated. The daydreams and twisting memories that came with driving in silence were just as significant a threat as falling asleep at the wheel, at this point. He pulled a new CD at random out of the case on the passenger seat and slid it into the player. 

The White Album. Nice. That should be safe. 

As the opening chords of “Back in the USSR” blared through his ageing speakers, Cas tried to relax. It would be fine. Yes, he would be dateless at a wedding watching Dean and Lisa dance together in a blissful little bubble of joy. But he wouldn’t really be alone, would he? Their family, unconventional though it already was, had sprawled out over the years. Ellen had eventually married Bobby Singer, so he and his buddy Rufus made an amusing, ornery little fixture in the corner of any family event. Cas’s high school best friend, Charlie Bradbury, had always been welcome with the Winchesters, but when her mother’s failing health pulled her back to Lawrence after college, she had started dating Jo, and the rest was history. She was an honorary Harvelle, at this point. 

And then, of course, there was Jess. The bride. Castiel adored her—had done since Sam first started casually mentioning her in conversation. Although, in the interest of full disclosure, Castiel would have probably been thrilled to hear about any girl that was treating Sam well at that particular moment. The kid had been through the wringer, escaping Stanford early in his sophomore year and moving home for a year of recalibration and addiction recovery. Kansas State proved a better emotional fit for Sam from the jump, but when Cas first saw the way his eyes lit up over a description of Jess’s thoughts on the dangers of toxic masculinity, it felt like a cloud was parting to show the joy Sam had possessed in high school. Some of the guilt and shame seemed to melt away, at least for a bit, and to Cas that felt like an unbelievable start. Jess could have had the personality of a cardboard cutout, and Cas would still have been glad to meet her in those early days. She knew Sam’s story and treated him well, and it was clearly helping Sam re-center himself. Cas was over the moon. 

Jessica Moore did not, in fact, have the personality of a cardboard cutout. Far, far from it. About 5 minutes into her first Winchester Christmas party, Cas was already crossing his fingers that she and Sam would stay together for the long haul. For everyone’s sake. She was the most devious angel Cas had ever laid eyes on, vivacious and level-headed, a listener at heart but happy to banter with the best of them. She slid into place with the clan even faster than nine-year-old Cas had, and the vows this weekend felt like just a formality at this point. She had been one of them for years. 

The thing that had been most startling about Jess’s introduction into the clan, to Castiel, was the contrast it struck. Dean had been with Lisa for several years already by that point, and she was great. Honestly, Cas sort of hated how much he liked her, because his eternal crush really wanted a reason to help break them up. But she was sweet with just the right amount of sass to match Dean, and it was infuriating.

As time went by, though, the differences in the relationships really showed. Cas blamed it on proximity, at first, the way Jess integrated into the family immediately while Lisa, and by extension Dean, were relegated to the periphery of family life. They lived in Florida, whereas Sam and Jess could have dinner with Mary and John nightly, if they wanted. But even if it started there, the family bond with Jess became deeper fairly quickly. From that first Christmas, she felt like a sister to Cas. They went to each other for advice and chat, independent, even, of Sam. Lisa was great, but she was always a guest at family events, from what Cas could see. Even if his feelings for Dean made him an unreliable observer on that front, Dean’s gradual withdrawal seemed to prove him (annoyingly) right. The elder Winchester was still family to them all, but he wasn’t in the thick of things any more. 

Cas routinely wondered if any of the others were as saddened by this as he was, but it was just too personal a topic to broach with them. And, anyway, Dean was probably keeping up with them all just fine—Cas suspected he was the only one that had fallen completely out of touch with the man. 

So. This weekend might turn out to be Cas’s own private disaster, but he truly was delighted for Sam, the incandescently happy couple of the moment. As long as he could focus back on the bride and groom, he could definitely get through this in one piece. 

Cas took a deep breath, aiming for as much positivity as his cynical mind could muster, and settled. He began to sing along.

 _Dear Prudence, open up your eyes_  
_Dear Prudence, see the sunny skies_  
_The wind is low the birds will sing_  
_That you are part of everything_  
_Dear Prudence, won't you open up your eyes?_

____

It was going to be fine. Fun even. Maybe. 

Cas had a sudden, vivid flash of a memory: 18-year-old Dean, freshly graduated from high school, sitting in the passenger seat of this very car, belting at the top of his lungs, “Look around, round, round! Dear Prudence, let me see you smile…”

If Cas hadn’t been so determined to make it to the lake house without dying in a fiery crash, he would have banged his head on the steering wheel. His car stereo was definitely mocking him. 

It was going to be a long drive. 

\---

The final approach to the lake house was like a balm to Cas's unsettled soul. Whatever specters of memory might lurk in the trees along the road, this bit of the drive was too beautiful to be overcome by fear. 

The lake house was, predictably, built on the shore of a lake, so the last twenty minutes or so of the trip were rife with glimpses of sun-golden water through patches of Midwestern forest. It was calming, just as Castiel imagined Bill Harvelle had intended when he secretly purchased the property years ago. When he died so suddenly shortly after finishing the renovations, Ellen had been ready to sell it right off--they hadn't even managed to take a family trip there before Bill's passing, and she couldn't bear to dive into the "could have beens" that she envisioned haunting its rooms. She once told a teenaged Cas, when he had asked why she ultimately kept the property, that this final stretch of road along the lake had been a significant factor in her decision. Its beauty had soothed her shattered heart some, so that by the time she made the final turn down the long drive and caught a glimpse of the house, she felt revived. It was as if, she told Cas, she could see a way forward for the first time since Bill's death, and the shadows of maybes felt less like despair and more like love. 

Making that final turn himself, Cas thought he might understand what Ellen meant. He was still apprehensive about seeing Dean, sure, but the drama inherent in his panic began to seem childish in this dappled light, leaving only a more distant anxiety behind. This huge house in the middle of nowhere was, in so many ways, his home, and nothing petty or self-destructive could destroy that truth. 

Cas wound down the drive as excitement began to build. He could see familiar cars up ahead, parked along the trees at the far corner of the sprawling lawn. The house sat in the very center of a large forest clearing, three stories and sloping pointed roof rising nearly to the tops of the trees. The open porch looked out over the long stretch of green toward a break in the trees where a portrait of pebbled beach kissed the lake's edge, a magnificent sight, especially at sunset. Cas had spent many a sunny day exploring this property and its surrounding woods with Jo Harvelle and the Winchester boys, building makeshift forts and organizing improvised games of soccer and baseball in the back forty. One particularly wet summer, the kids had even staged a small play, setting the adults down in the barn to watch them all enact a spoof version of Star Wars to general hilarity. Cas wondered idly if Ellen or Mary still had that video of that performance floating around somewhere - it would be highly entertaining to wrangle Sam's lawyer friends during the festivities this weekend to show them all his teen attempt at a Jar Jar Binks impression.

There was a settling sense of déjà vu as Cass pulled into the space next to Bobby Singer’s ancient silver truck and let the engine of his car tick toward silence. It was bright and sunny, and he was in one of his favorite places on Earth, two cars away from a certain Chevy Impala that gleamed in the sun like it was still 1967. What else could possibly matter?

After taking a moment of quietly thanking his own, less pristine, vehicle for making it through the full drive, Cas got out to schlep his bags down toward the house. The cars were all lined up along the trees, far further than usual—presumably to make room for the other guests who would be coming and going throughout the weekend. 

He bypassed the back door in favor of the front porch entrance, eager for a first look at the patch of beach the trees allowed. The water sparkled invitingly, or, perhaps, winked back at Castiel as he let himself in through the open lake house door. 

The living room was empty, as the yard had been. But he could hear low music and voices drifting through from the kitchen. It smelled like sweet baked memories, and he took a moment to breathe in that perfect scent of “home”, eyes closed, and head tilted back in peace. Then there were footsteps on the stairs, a high-pitched squeal, and a flash of red hair launched toward Cas in an attack hug. 

“Cas!” Charlie Bradbury yelled directly into his ear. It made him grin like a loon, even as his eardrum protested the assault. 

“Greetings, your highness.”

A third set of arms joined themselves around the pair as Jo Harvelle’s voice added in wonder, “You made it!”

“I did,” Cas agreed. “The Pimp-Mobile didn’t break down once.”

“I am so glad that name stuck,” Charlie rejoiced, thankfully at a more reasonable volume. 

“Thank you for your excellent engine maintenance guidance, Jo. Even from afar, your expertise was, as always, appreciated.” Cas said, sneaking his hand around to ruffle her hair. 

“Anytime, dude,” she replied, breaking out of the group hug to adjust whatever Cas had done to her ponytail. 

Charlie finally released her friend as footsteps approached from the kitchen. “Is that John back, because I think we’re gonna need more—Castiel!”

“Hi Aunt Mary.”

Mary Winchester’s hug was impossibly tighter even than Charlie’s had been, though less aggressive. She embraced him for a long time before leaning back to look him up and down. “Ellen,” she called, “bring this boy a cupcake, will you? You look like you could use a sugar boost after that long drive.”

Ellen Harvelle wasted no time answering this request, appearing in the living room moments later complete with a brightly frosted pastry. “There’s more where that came from,” she assured him, patting his cheek affectionately. “Welcome back, Cas. It’s been too long.”

It was a bit overwhelming for Cas, being assaulted by so much affection from so many corners so quickly. He loved it, of course – he loved them all fiercely. But coming back from his relatively straightforward existence, standing there, cupcake in hand, and being looked at with such naked adoration by these smiling faces was really something. His heart was so full, and he felt so abruptly lucky to have been found by these people. He never felt so welcomed as when he was among them. 

“It’s good to see you all,” he said, hoping to project the depth of his sincerity. “I’m sorry I missed you at the holidays,” he added, turning apologetically back to Ellen. 

She squeezed his shoulder lightly, eyes soft. “Well, that’s what we get for having a destination New Year’s. And at least we get to see you now.”

There was a call from the top of the stairs, then, as Sam ducked his head down from the second floor. “Did someone say the cupcakes are—CAS!”

The groom rushed down the last few steps to envelop Cas in a hug of his own. 

“Hello Sam.” 

Sam released him more quickly than the others, but his smile was no less warm. “I’m so glad you were able to come in today! The drive wasn’t too bad?” 

“Not at all. I got an early start,” Cas assured him. Then he turned to his bags. “Oh, and I have something for you…”

Sam protested immediately, earnest as ever. “No, you don’t have to—“

“I do, though,” Cas cut in. “I was given strict instructions, because this is your engagement/bachelor gift from my father. He is so disappointed that he can’t be here this weekend, but he sends all his love from Venice.”

“Tell him to stop apologizing, would you?” Sam asked, looking affectionately exasperated as he began to open the package Cas had pulled from his backpack. “He already called and sent me a letter. But it’s our own fault for putting the thing together on such short notice. His book tour had been scheduled months before we set the date. We completely under—HOLY SHIT.”

Sam’s face was a mask of shock, and the others looked baffled. 

“What?” Jo asked, bemused. 

But Sam was apparently too surprised to hear her. “Holy shit, Cas, is this…?”

Cas nodded solemnly, highly amused by the gleam of worship in his friend’s eye. “The latest draft of the new book, yes. And,” he gave Sam a stern look and affected his best Chuck Novak impression. “’guard it with your life young man. Only the editor has seen that so far’.”

Sam’s eyes widened comically as his jaw dropped. “Wait, you haven’t even read it?”

“I have not,” he agreed, grinning. “But I’m not the one getting married this weekend.”

“Holy shit,” he exclaimed, turning his attention back to the manuscript with all the reverence of a monk handling the Ark of the Covenant. 

Then Jo’s diverted voice chimed in. “You’re gonna want to lock that up somewhere safe tonight, Winchester. Because I bet the Queen over here would sell several moderately essential organs to get her eyes on that manuscript.”

Sure enough, Charlie was gazing at the stack of paper with almost indecent desire. She absently patted Jo on the arm as she nodded. “My lady knows me so well.”

Sam turned to Ellen, suddenly uncertain. “Does my door have a lock on it?”

“Of course not,” she replied. “This ain’t a hotel, boy.” Sam clutched the manuscript close to his chest and gave Charlie his most defiant look. It wasn’t particularly intimidating, but, then, Sam had always been more puppy than attack dog. 

Mary just rolled her eyes at them all. “Lord. Can we at least get Cas settled before the wrestling match breaks out?” 

Sam, ever the adult, stuck his tongue out at Charlie. She responded with the international hand gesture for “I’m watching you”. 

Ellen mirrored Mary’s long-suffering eye roll and turned back to Castiel. “Cas, we put you up in the attic room for the weekend. Is that alright?”

“Of course,” he replied. It was a knee-jerk reaction. His goal this weekend was to help make the festivities run smoothly. If that meant sleeping in the attic he had shared with Dean as a child and confronting the ghosts of his crush head on, then he would just have to deal with that on his own. 

Oblivious to Cas’s uncertainty, Mary nudged his shoulder with her own, smiling conspiratorially. “Just like old times, huh?”

Unable to formulate a response in his mild panic, Cas took a huge bite of cupcake and nodded vaguely. There was a moment of contented silence as Cas chewed. Sam had plopped down on the couch to dive right into his manuscript, and Charlie was still staring without restraint as Jo shook her head at her girlfriend’s hyper focus. 

Finally, Ellen clapped her hands and got back to the tasks at hand. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, kiddo, but I’m gonna need to steal these two knuckleheads away for a bit,” she said, nodding toward Charlie and Jo. 

“Are you gonna go hit the grocery, then?” Mary asked, taking the empty cupcake plate back from Cas. 

“Yeah, no need to call John, we’ll sort it out.” Ellen replied, herding the two young ladies toward the door. “And please leave the biscuits be, would you? Dean’s got them under control, and Cas can help if he needs it.”

Mary pursed her lips in annoyance. “I’m not gonna burn down the house just by touching the oven, Ellen.” 

“Let’s not test that theory on Sam’s big wedding weekend, shall we?” was the reply.

“Fine, fine,” Mary conceded. Then she added, somewhat grumpily, “You know, you could send me to the store, if you’re so worried about your precious biscuits.”

“And have you come back with Cool Whip and Kraft slices? No thank you.” Ellen winked at Cas as she opened the front door. “Come on, you two.”

They all called their goodbyes – apart from Sam, who was apparently too lost in the book to notice anything, at this point, and the trio headed toward the cars. 

In the wake of their departure, Mary turned back to Cas, bringing her hand to his cheek in that motherly way he only ever accepted from Mary and Ellen. “It’s so good to have the whole family back in this house again,” she said quietly. “It has been far too long since we’ve managed that.”

Cas nodded, wondering if she had any clue how deeply he agreed with that particular sentiment. Then he bit the bullet and asked the million-dollar question. “Are Lisa and Dean already here, then?”

At this, Sam finally looked up, the ghost of his ‘concerned brother’ look crossing his face. “Well, Dean is.”

Mary, also looking a bit troubled, explained. “Lisa’s not going to make it, sadly. There’s been some kind of family emergency, and she needs to be there with her parents.”

Of all the contingencies Cas had prepared for this weekend, the possibility that Dean would be here alone had never occurred to him. He blinked at Mary and did his best not to sound unduly flustered. 

“Oh, that’s terrible. Is everyone okay?”

“We’re not really sure,” Mary replied. “Dean’s waiting for word, but he says it doesn’t look good.”

As if summoned by magic, Dean appeared in the doorway from the kitchen, phone in hand, muttering to himself. He looked unfairly wonderful in his casual clothes and annoyed scowl. Cas swallowed thickly as Dean spoke. 

“For fuck’s sake. Mom, I got a hold of Rufus, and— Cas!”

He had noticed Castiel. This was it. Cas was done for. Because Dean’s face was suddenly alight with excitement. And he was hugging Castiel, phone forgotten, and he smelled the same and he didn’t hate Cas and it was all too much to handle with Mary standing right there watching. 

Eventually, he managed to croak out, “Hello, Dean.”

 

Finally, (FINALLY!) Dean stepped back, though not nearly far enough in Cas’s opinion. He could still smell that woodsy Dean Winchester musk, and it was very distracting. “When did you get here?! And why the hell didn’t anyone tell me?” He punctuated this question by smacking Sam upside the head. 

“Ouch!” Sam ejected, trying to hit his brother back. “He just got here, jerk, relax!”

“Leave your brother alone, Dean. For heaven’s sake,” Mary admonished, rolling her eyes for Cas’s benefit. 

“Sorry, Mom,” Dean said, turning back to Cas. “I’m just pissed I wasn’t here to greet you properly, man.” 

“It’s okay,” Cas replied, slightly baffled by the earnest apology in Dean’s tone. At a loss, he opted for sarcasm. “I guess. I mean, you have all weekend to make up for it.” 

Apparently that had successfully covered Cas’s confusion, because Dean grinned and said, “Damn right.” But then he wrapped his arm around his friend’s shoulder, and Cas had to dig deep for the strength to not tense up. Or lean in. Or rest his head on the shoulder directly to his left. He was doomed. Because Dean was smiling crookedly and looking him dead in the eye as he said, “I’m glad you made it, man.” 

Thankfully, the incomparable Mary Winchester saved him from having to respond. “What’s this about Rufus, then?” 

Dean shook himself as he returned his attention to his mother. He released Cas from his hold, and his grin turned back into a scowl. “Right. So, he is driving up tonight after all, but, apparently, he didn’t book a hotel room at all, in the end. Claims they were ‘trying to rob him with the weekend rates’. He brought a tent. But he says he expects he’ll be more comfortable in the flat bed.”

Sam let out an exasperated sound. “He’s planning to sleep in his truck all weekend?!”

“Yes sir,” Dean answered. “That’s the grand plan.”

Mary threw up her hands. “I swear. If he throws his damn back out again over an extra $30 a night, I will wring his neck.” 

Dean nodded his agreement. “Stubborn old man won’t budge. I offered to pay for the room, and he about took my head off.” 

“We don’t have any rooms left here?” Sam asked, waving his manuscript to indicate the house around them. 

Mary sighed. “Not ‘til Saturday night when you head off to the Bridal Suite. We have you three, Charlie & Jo, Ellen & Bobby, plus your dad & me. We’re at capacity with Ash on the couch and Garth in the basement.”

Hoping to remove the rising anxiety from Mary’s tone, Cas interjected. “Well, does the attic room still have two beds? Cause I don’t mind sharing a room, if it helps.” The room, inexplicably, had contained two twin beds since Ellen first inherited the place, and was a big enough space to fit two grown adults quite comfortably. 

Mary nodded thoughtfully, but Sam interrupted, wincing. “Dude, I love Rufus, but you do not want to share a room with him. He takes snoring to a whole new level. Trust me on this.”

Dean chuckled lowly. “Rough time sleeping on that camping trip last month, huh?”

Sam responded with a dark look. “You don’t know the half of it. It was like sleeping through an air raid. And he was in another tent.”

“Yikes,” Dean ejected, looking utterly unapologetic. 

“Well, you two could share, then,” Mary suggested, indicating Cas and Dean. Cas felt himself freeze. “Give Rufus the blue room. That’s plenty far from everyone else trying to sleep.”

Dean shrugged. “That’d work. You okay with that, Cas?”

All eyes were on him. He had no logical reason to object, as far as he could tell. At least, no reason he was willing to share with the class. There was nothing for it but to say, “Sure.” 

Mary’s shoulders slumped in relief. She grasped his hand and said, “You really are an angel.” And seeing her relax, knowing that he had, at least, been able to remove one crisis from the shoulders of this woman who had welcomed into her family…well, Cas had always said he’d do anything for her. Now was the time to test that resolve, apparently. Beaming, Mary held her hand out to her son to take the phone. “Dean, you wanna grab your stuff and take it up to the attic? I’ll call Rufus back and let him grumble at me for a while.” 

Dean looked thrilled to hand the phone off. “Sure thing,” he said, and headed for the stairs. 

“Cool,” Sam said, standing from the couch. “I’ll just check on the biscuits then…”

Dean whirled around, foot on the bottom stair. “You will do no such thing. They have 20 more minutes, and if you go near that oven I swear I will put Nair in your shampoo on the eve of your wedding.” Then he turned and started up the stairs like nothing had happened. 

Mary put her hands on her hips and called out at her son’s retreating form. “You and Ellen, I swear. It’s like you think we’re allergic to following recipes.” 

Dean popped his head down from the top of the stairs. “I’d quote that adage about ‘too many cooks’, but you two definitely do not qualify as ‘cooks’.”

“I am your mother!”

Dean put on his most sincere expression. “And I say, with the deepest childlike devotion, please leave the cooking to me, Mother.”

Mary squinted at him in suspicion, but apparently had no comment beyond a skeptical hum. 

Cas began hauling his bags up the stairs as Dean called back, “There will be Ellen’s famous biscuits at Sam’s bachelor party if I have to lock my mother in the barn all afternoon.” 

There was a “harrumph” sound from the living room, but no further discussion of the matter. 

As they reached the second-floor landing, Cas murmured, “I can’t decide if that makes you a great Best Man or a terrible son.” 

“Both, obviously,” Dean answered, with a wink that set butterfly wings alight in Cas’s chest. Dean turned down the second-floor hall toward his now-former bedroom. “Let me grab my bag, I’ll be right up.” 

-

Cas opened the door to the attic room slowly, half expecting to find a 9-year-old Dean jumping on the bed, or a 16-year-old Dean lounging in swim trunks and reading Lord of the Rings. The light streamed through from the balcony in golden sheets, dancing across the familiar carpet to the feet of the floral-covered twin beds. It even smelled the same, if a tad musty from disuse, and Castiel breathed the memories deeply into his lungs—whispered giggles by flashlight, privately elucidated dreams for the future, strained teenaged heart-to-hearts. This room had been a private haven for Dean and Castiel, the one place in the world where they could go to be alone, to speak their minds and their fears without even Sam or Jo intervening. It hurt to feel so sure those days were firmly in the past. 

One thing, at least, Cas was sure would be the same: Dean would want the bed closest to the door. “For safety,” an 8-year-old Dean had declared, earnest as ever as they examined the room for the first time. “The hero always takes the bed by the door in case a bad guy comes, so he can protect everyone else! I saw it in a movie.” At 9-year-old Castiel’s raised eyebrow, Dean had added, “You should be happy! It means I’d take a bullet for you, dude!” After that, Cas had been too honored to argue. 

Now, he didn’t even hesitate before crossing around to the far bed. 

Dean wasn’t far behind, and gazed around with a reminiscent smile. “Man, just like old times.” He dropped his bag at the foot of his bed and plopped down, facing Castiel. “So, how are you, dude? I feel like I haven’t talked to you in forever!”

“I’m doing well, on the whole,” Cas replied, tentatively perching on his own bed. “And you? I’m sorry to hear Lisa couldn’t make it.” 

“Yeah, she was bummed. But her grandma’s pretty sick, and she really needed to be there with the family, just in case things take a turn for the worse, you know? Better to be safe.” 

Something was off, there. It wasn’t just that it sounded rehearsed, or that he suddenly wasn’t looking at Cas while he spoke. A memory swirled to the surface of Castiel’s mind, and he raised an eyebrow. "Would that be the grandmother who was laid to rest on the family farm, or the one who had her ashes sprinkled off a ship in the Bahamas?" 

Startled, Dean snapped his gaze right back to Cas. “Uh… what?”

“Lisa and I had a fascinating conversation about our various dead relatives the first time you brought her home to visit,” he explained. 

Dean blinked. “Fuck.”

No further comment seemed forthcoming—Dean was frozen. So, Cas continued. “It was quite illuminating. Apparently the one from the farm had cremated every barn dog and cat that had died throughout her life so that they could be mixed with her own ashes. I understand the grave marker had to be quite enormous to fit them all.”

Dean deflated, suddenly sounding exhausted. “Yeah, I’ve seen it. It’s really something.”

Softening some, Castiel shifted to face Dean more fully. The man looked embarrassed, and more, he looked lost. “What happened, Dean?”

Dean gave him a long look, then rose quickly to close the bedroom door. He returned to his bed and quietly admitted, “Lisa and I broke up.”

“I’m sorry.” He didn’t know what else to say. His insides seemed to be bouncing back and forth between joyful back flips and sympathy heartache. Dean just shrugged. “When?”

“Uh…” he finally looked up at Cas again, shaking himself a bit. “A while ago, actually.” At Cas’s blank look he added, “as in, February.” 

That gave Cas pause. “What?!”

“Look, it…” Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, apparently in distress. “We broke up on the night of the 4th, okay? And I’m not sure if you remember what happened that same night, but—“

It clicked. “Sam got engaged?”

“Right in one. He called me in the morning, and I was about to tell him, but…god, he was so excited. I wasn’t about to fuck that up with my problems. You know how Sam is. He’d be ashamed to show his happiness ‘cause he’d think it was gonna make me sad or whatever. I wasn’t about to send him down that road.” He sounded utterly desperate to be understood, validated, and Cas could see how Dean would be hesitant to cause Sam shame. The kid gave guilt a whole new meaning when it came to his family. 

“Okay, I’ll give you that. But it’s June, Dean.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t counting on them deciding to throw the damn wedding together so fucking fast. Everyone else these days stays engaged for at least a year or two, but not Sammy. No, he had to get married just a couple months later. And if I’d told him after the engagement buzz wore off, you know he’d still be moping about it now.”

Cas sighed, reluctantly starting to understand the strange logic of this situation. “He’s going to be furious with you when you do tell him.”

Finally, Dean seemed to relax out of ‘convince at all costs’ mode. “Yep. And Mom’ll probably kill me. But I’ll take a couple ass-kickings over Sam’s sad puppy eyes any day.” 

“I think it’ll be more than a couple,” Cas interjected, wincing. “I mean, I gather you’re planning to lie to everyone’s faces all weekend to keep this a secret? Ellen’s not gonna take kindly to that. Nor are Charlie and Jo.”

“Oh, I know. I’ve just gotta hope Jo leaves her knives behind when she comes after me.”

“Here’s hoping,” Cas offered. 

“Bobby will just give me that silent death stare of his for a few weeks, and then he’ll probably get over it.”

“I’d count on a few head slaps from him, too.”

“Yeah, good call.” An awkward silence descended on the room, charged with a healthy dose of uncertain anticipation. “What about you, Cas? Are you gonna kick my ass for keeping it from you all this time?”

“Honestly? No.” Cas could make a joke of it, brush it off. But, well, he had never been great at lying to Dean. Starting now felt foolish, whatever else was to come. “We don’t exactly talk all the time like we used to, Dean. I’m not sure I would have expected you to tell me. Until, maybe, this weekend. There just wouldn’t have been an opportunity for it to come up.”

Dean seemed to take the blow of the words physically, leaning back and muttering “ouch” without an ounce of his usual humor. 

“I am really sorry about Lisa, though, Dean,” Cas offered in apology. Rather than letting any snotty comments about Lisa fall from his lips, he simply added, “You guys were together a long time.”

Dean’s gaze was wary, but he seemed to have decided on full disclosure. “It was time for it to end, honestly,” he began, a bit haltingly. “One day it was just kind of… over. So, the split itself wasn’t so bad— no screaming or begging or any of that. Just one really disheartening conversation where we both basically said, ‘this isn’t going anywhere’. And then a depressing few days of splitting up our belongings. Most of it was hers, anyway, so I didn’t even take much with me. Just moved out, and life went on.” His shrug this time was smooth, and seemed honest. “Coulda been a lot worse.” 

Cas nodded, wondering if he could trust the sincerity in Dean’s tone. “Still. I’m sorry you’ve had to go through it on your own.” 

“Yeah, well, I kinda dug that hole for myself, though, didn’t I?” It was a quiet admission, the fresh wound of a guilty conscience plagued with new ammunition. Cas frowned, at a loss until Dean sat up straighter. “But, whatever. This weekend is about Sammy, and I will not let this shit ruin it for him. Or me, for that matter. Almost the whole family is here, and that means some good times are ahead.” 

“That’s the spirit,” Cas commented, dryly, just as Ellen’s voice floated up the stairs, calling them down to carry groceries. They both stood to oblige. 

Dean paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Uh, Cas? Would you mind keeping this to yourself, just through the reception? This Lisa thing? I’m planning to tell Mom and Dad and the crew once the happy couple leaves for the honeymoon, and then spill to Sam after he’s gotten back and shown us all his pictures a few hundred times.” 

“Sure,” Cas assured him. “Your secret is safe with me, Dean. But you might want to come up with a new cover story about Lisa’s absence, just in case she shared her more morbid familial traumas with anyone else.”

Dean’s eyes widened slightly as he opened the door for Cas. “Yeah, good call.” 

\---

The rest of the afternoon passed in a flurry of party preparation. The biscuits made it out of the oven unharmed, thankfully. Cas suspected this was largely due to the fact that Sam had disappeared with his manuscript and Mary was busy coordinating rental furniture and delivery men in the yard most of the afternoon. Being only a marginally accomplished cook himself, Cas left the real cooking to Dean and Ellen, escaping into the dining room for prep duty. He spent the better part of two hours catching up over cutting boards with Jo and Charlie as they all diced fruit and veggies for the evening’s various salads. It was warm and comfortable in the sunlit dining room, and by the time Bobby and John turned up with a truckload of meat and meat alternatives for the grill, Cas and Charlie had completely dissolved into laughter. It was as if no time had passed since Cas had last sat at this table, and when he heard Bobby mutter “Idjits” as he passed through to the kitchen, Cas finally began to relax. He could do this. 

Sam re-emerged when the Dads fired up the grill, and several cars pulled up soon after with Jess’s portion of the wedding party. The house was soon filled with excited chatter as introductions were made all around. 

Cas was quickly assaulted by a tiny curly-haired girl of about five who seemed completely entranced by his gravelly voice. After nearly a full minute of open mouthed staring, she emitted a huge grin and announced to him that she was the flower girl.

“Congratulations,” he replied, bending slightly closer to her level. “And what is your true name, Mistress Flower Girl?” 

“Addison,” she declared. “Addison Moore-Collins. What’s yours?” When Cas told her, she wrinkled her nose slightly and tilted her head in consideration. “Cass-tee-ell?” 

“Well done,” he responded, honestly impressed. “Most people don’t say it right the first time.” She still seemed perplexed, so he crouched down in front of her to confide, “It’s kind of a silly name.”

Addison giggled and whispered, “Kinda.” Then she tilted her head again but before she could add more she had been scooped up by a tall blonde woman.

“Come on, Addy, leave the poor man alone. He’ll get enough of your questions once the party actually starts, I’m sure.”

“It’s not a problem,” Cas assured her, standing back up to address the woman. 

“You say that now,” she replied conspiratorially, “but, well, the night is very young yet.” She shifted Addy to her left hip to extend her liberated right hand. “I’m Ellie, by the way, sister of the bride and mother to this little monster.” 

Addy giggled again as the adults shook hands. “I’m not a monster!”

“Of course not, dear.” Ellie grinned and rolled her eyes for Cas’s benefit.

“You know,” Cas offered the little girl, “My mom used to call me a little monster, too. Which was especially strange since she named me after an angel.”

The door opened behind Cas, signaling the return of Charlie and Jo, who had been moving the last of the fruit back to the kitchen. Addy became rather abruptly shy around the ladies, practically burying her face in her mother’s neck as she watched them intently.

“You little weirdo,” Ellie exclaimed, apparently stuck between amusement and exasperation. “You know Charlie!” But there was no getting Addy to talk now. “I think she’s a little star struck, honestly,” Ellie explained. “She hasn’t stopped talking about you two since you were kind enough to babysit last month. She thinks you’re the height of cool.” 

“She’ll learn better soon enough,” Jo offered dryly, earning a punch in the shoulder from her girlfriend and laughs all around. 

Ellen emerged from the kitchen a moment later to shoo them all outside, where Bobby was, apparently, starting in on the grill. They all wandered out along the barn to join Sam in dusting off the old picnic table and tossing blankets over the hay bales that surrounded the fire pit. Cas got a huge hug from Jessica, whom he had adored since the first time Sam brought her home, and she immediately pulled him over to meet her mother and stepfather, Jan and Rick. 

By the time everyone had settled in around the bonfire for burgers and biscuits, Cas had to admit that it was the most enjoyable bachelor party he had ever witnessed. He had only been to a couple of weddings before, for various college friends, and all of them had opted for the “traditional” American bachelor mess of booze soaked evenings full of overly loud dance music. But Sam had been in recovery since his sophomore year of college, and Jess had quit drinking somewhere along the way as well, so neither really fancied that sort of graceless debauchery any more. They had decided to forego the odd, antiquated tradition all together in favor of this combined pre-wedding cookout, and Cas could not have been more thrilled. Even as the ghosts of bonfires past swirled by in the wind, he couldn’t seem to stop smiling. Addison was chasing Ash and Garth around the yard, Jess’s younger sister Laurie was whipping up unbelievable mock-tails, John seemed to be explaining combustion engines to Ellie’s husband, and the world felt utterly settled. 

Bobby lit the mosquito lamps as the sun slipped below the tree line across the lake, and it wasn’t long before Charlie ever-so-subtly asked Dean if he had brought his guitar along. 

“Excuse me,” Dean shot at her, mock-offended, “what do you think I am, an amateur? It’s a family cookout. Of course I brought my guitar.” 

Charlie ever-so-maturely stuck her tongue out at Dean. “Well, I don’t see it out here, so I preferred not to assume.” 

“That’s because it’s in my car, genius,” Dean rebutted, thoroughly enjoying himself. Addy had passed out in his lap, apparently so exhausted that Dean didn’t even need to keep his voice down as he bantered with the others. 

“That’s Queen Genius to you, Winchester,” Charlie answered, straightening up on her hay bale in an attempt at regal dignity. 

Jo snorted and stood up from her perch next to Charlie. “Well since Mr. Snark over there is currently being used as a mattress, I’ll get the damn guitar.” She edged around the fire and held her hand out to Dean, apparently expecting him to hand over the keys. 

By the time she arrived at his side of the circle, however, Dean looked like a deer in the headlights. He just blinked at her hand for a second, then said, “uh… no. That’s okay.” He glanced down at the girl sleeping on top of him, then looked wildly around. “Cas will get it.” 

Cas blinked, confused, and nearly missed Dean digging the keys out of his pocket. Moments later, the keys were being tossed at Cas’s head, so he caught them dumbly, utterly perplexed. Dean was giving him a slightly desperate look, so he stood and awkwardly said, “yes, I’ll get the guitar.” 

“It’s in the trunk,” Dean called, looking relieved, but apparently starting to recover from his random bout of panic. 

As Cas turned to head up the hill toward the parked cars, he heard Jo ask, “What gives, Winchester?” 

“You seriously think I’m going to just hand you my Baby’s keys after you dinged her door and tried to lie about it?” 

Jo’s cry of, “Dean, that was fifteen years ago,” probably carried clear across the lake. 

Baby was easy to spot amongst the cars at the top of the hill, shining in the moonlight just the way Dean liked. Cas barely resisted the urge to slide his hand along her hood as he walked around to the back, but he knew that Dean would not appreciate finger prints on his freshly waxed prize. 

As soon as he popped open the trunk, Cas understood exactly why Dean had needed his help with this task. The trunk was packed completely full, with two large suitcases and a number of duffels stuffed in around the guitar case. As he liberated the instrument and headed back toward the group, Cas’s mind whirled. That very well might have been everything Dean owned packed into the trunk of his car. Or, at least everything he had brought with him when he moved away from home after college, minus furniture. It made sense that he wasn’t living with Lisa any more, given that they were no longer together, but this made it look like perhaps he didn’t intend to return to Florida at all after the wedding. No wonder he hadn’t wanted Jo near the car. 

Cas shot Dean a weighty look as he returned to his seat, hoping to convey “we are going to talk about that later” without making the rest of the clan suspicious. Dean nodded almost imperceptibly, and then asked Sam if he wanted to start, since Addy was still snoring softly away. Sam wasn’t wonderful on the guitar, and Jess had fun ribbing him about it good-naturedly through the first couple of songs, but he worked his way through a few tunes as everyone sang along. 

Ellen eventually called over a request that Sam couldn’t help with, and Cas offered to take over. Dean looked taken aback. “Cas, you can play now?” 

Jess giggled and offered, “Oh, yes, he learned from his rock star boyfriend. Didn’t you, Cas?” 

Cas rolled his eyes as he adjusted the guitar’s tuning. “Raph was hardly a rocker, and definitely not a star. But at least I got free guitar lessons out of him before he turned into a raging misogynist.”

“Ouch,” Laurie interjected from her lounging spot next to Cas. “Sounds like you got the better end of that deal, in the end.” 

Cas grinned at her. “Oh, I most certainly did. You’d be surprised how your sex life opens up once you have ‘naked midnight serenade’ in your bag of tricks.” Then he turned toward Charlie and Jo to ensure they were ready, and strummed the opening chords to “Closer to Fine”. 

After “Closer to Fine” wrapped up, Ellie and her husband Trevor stood to say their goodbyes and take Addy home. Cas handed the guitar over to Dean, the true musician of the group, to lead them all in various requests and past favorites. 

Dusk slipped through evening in relaxed, musical bliss. The Moores were a delight, and seemed highly entertained by the others’ ‘family band’-style traditions. Laurie turned out to have a hell of a voice, complete with an impressively accurate Janis Joplin impression, and Jess’s stepdad, Rick, even took a turn on the guitar for a couple Beatles covers that had everyone singing through laughter. 

Once 9:30 came and went, Ellie and her husband Trevor stood to take Addie back to the hotel. Finally free to play for them all, Dean, the true musician of the group, wound them all through a variety of favorites, acoustic covers of classic rock being his specialty. Eventually, the jam session devolved back into conversation, and Dean just played on quietly, letting his skilled instrumentals underscore the cheery banter. 

Cas doubted anyone else had noticed, but Dean’s demeanor seemed a bit off as the night wore on. It was nothing he said—his voice had been ringing with the others through the sing-alongs, and his commentary on Sam’s reminiscent musings was as humorous as ever, jovially ribbing with his elder-sibling-grin. But it didn’t quite sit right with Cas. The man was quiet tonight, at least more so than usual, and as the others shared stories with Laurie and with two of Jess’s girlfriends who had rolled up around dusk, Cas thought he caught an uncharacteristic sadness in Dean’s eyes. He seemed just as surprised by some of the tales being shared in the cool evening breeze as the newly arrived Trish and Sonya – anecdotes from Charlie’s recent LARPing escapades, from the Harvelle’s New Year’s trip to Colorado, from Sam and Jess’s encounters with clueless clients and problem patients. It was, Cas realized, new to Dean in a way that it was not to the others of their little clan. 

Castiel himself had heard nearly every one of these bonfire tales before, though he delighted in the retellings nonetheless. He had been there when Charlie led the charge against the unruly clan of Orcs from Kansas City, fighting at her side as a knight along with Jo, Garth, and Cas’s ex-boyfriend Zeke. Dean, apparently, hadn’t even heard the story, and while he put on a good show of enjoying the group’s fireside re-enactment, there was something false hiding in his eyes. Was Dean feeling left out, he wondered? Was he upset that no one had kept him in the loop? Was he suddenly realizing that he’d lost something when his contact became limited to holiday greetings?

The party finally broke up when Rufus pulled up in his old pickup, calling “What are you old hippies doing singing kumbaya? It’s nearly midnight!” They extinguished the fire and waved goodnight to the Moores and their guests, trudging back up toward the house in excellent spirits. 

But Cas couldn’t help watching Dean as they all parted ways for bed. Once the door to the attic room was closed, he seemed to lose focus entirely, unloading his clothes into the dresser on his side of the room without comment, clearly lost in thought. Evidently Cas had not been imagining the man’s disquiet. He was practically vibrating with unspoken thoughts at the moment. 

Cautious, but unable to sit by and watch Dean droop any longer, Cas took a seat on the bed. “Dean?” 

“Hm?” came the response. Dean was still unloading his suitcase into the drawer, but he looked up for a moment. His expression was cleared but overly bright, with his eyebrows too raised and his smile too tight. The false cheer didn’t fool Cas for a second. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Dean replied quickly, looking back down at his open suitcase. 

Unconvinced, Cas levelled him with his most eloquent dead-eyed stare – the one he had cultivated through years of being on the receiving end of Ellen’s. Dean shifted uncomfortably for a few seconds. 

“What?”

Dean’s tone wasn’t rude, per se, but it was defensive in a way they had never been with each other growing up. It was disappointing, but Cas didn’t feel entitled to push. So, he said only, “Nothing,” and stood to resume his evening routine. 

Cas had barely connected his phone charger to the wall when he heard Dean sigh and plop down on his own bed. “Is it that obvious?”

Cas smiled reassuringly and resumed his seat across from Dean. “Only when you add together the uncharacteristic silence with the traumatic breakup and the trunk full of suitcases.”

“Right,” Dean replied with a huff, “Um, about that…”

When this comment went unfinished, Cas prompted, “I’m guessing you’re not planning to return to Florida next week?”

“Uh, no.” Dean finally looked up at Cas and took in a fortifying breath. “No, I’m… I’m not sure where I’m headed, actually. 

Cas nodded, hoping to ease Dean’s worry with acceptance. “What about work?”

“I gave my notice a couple weeks ago. Said my goodbyes and took my time getting up here. Which was actually kinda nice, you know? I do love a road trip.” The smile that accompanied this was small, but far more honest than before. 

“Just needed a change of scene?” Cas asked. 

“Yeah. I mean, there were some great people in that shop, but if I’m honest it was always meant to be just a starting place. I never wanted it to be my endgame. I learned a helluva lot from Jesse, but I’ve always been aiming to work on classics, take lost causes and make ‘em shine.” He leaned forward conspiratorially, finally looking a bit more relaxed. “I hate to be a snob, but if I never have to investigate another ‘weird sound’ in a brand-new Prius it’ll be too soon.”

Cas chuckled, the return of Dean’s usual teasing superiority putting him at ease. “What about your friends there?”

Dean frowned slightly, but shrugged. “I mean, they were mostly ‘our’ friends, you know? Mine and Lisa’s. And they were cool, even after the breakup. I wasn’t kidding when I said Lisa and I split on good terms. But—I don’t know.” He fortified again before continuing, glancing up at Cas quickly. “I was never so close with any of them that I needed to stay in town for them, I guess. Not when we can keep in touch so easily online. So, I decided to…leave.” He finished rather lamely, and seemed at a loss. 

“Sounds reasonable,” Cas offered after a moment, but Dean only sighed.

“Does it? Cause I have absolutely no plan, apart from a visit to my parents’ place. Sounds pretty unreasonable to me.” He dropped his head into his hands. “I’m basically homeless, Cas.” 

Unimpressed with this sudden descent into melodrama, Cas whacked Dean on the arm. “You’re not homeless, Dean. You just said, you’re about to go home to see your parents. You know they’d let you stay if you wanted.” 

Dean winced, rubbing at his arm. “Yeah, no offense to them, but I am not moving back in with my parents. I honestly don’t want to move back to Lawrence at all if I can avoid it. I just don’t really know where I’m headed next quite yet.” 

“So, you’re adrift.” Cas paused until Dean tilted his head in concession. Cas levelled him with a slightly teasing look and added, “That’s not the same as homeless.” 

The teasing must have landed just as intended, because Dean smirked. 

“Sure, I guess. For now.” He took a big breath, and squared his shoulders toward Cas. “Anyway. That is more than enough about me. And if we’ve learned anything tonight, it’s that I’ve missed a helluva lot about the rest of you guys.”

If he was uncomfortably honest, Cas would have to admit that he took a tiny bit of vindictive pleasure at the contrition in Dean’s tone. So, he had noticed that his negligence had driven them apart. And he felt guilty. On the one hand, Cas was glad. It made his own pain feel somehow validated, seeing Dean come to terms with his part in it all. 

But at the same time, Cas was nearly overwhelmed by the need to soothe and comfort his oldest friend. He looked so earnest waiting for Cas’s response, slightly tense as though bracing for rejection, and suddenly Cas’s pettier feelings didn’t stand a chance. He tilted his head. 

“What do you want to know?”

Dean’s shoulders loosened slightly, but he still looked uncertain. “Hell, I don’t know where to start, Cas, that’s the problem. I get the occasional update from Mom about things in your life, but I don’t even know…” He frowned down at his hands. “I think she assumes we still talk. You know, like we used to. So, she probably leaves stuff out.” There was a silence as neither man could come up with a retort. “So, are you still in Michigan?”

Cas nearly flinched. He had known they were out of touch, clearly, but it was still jarring to realize Dean wasn’t even sure which state Cas was currently inhabiting. 

“I—yeah,” he said, recovering quickly. “But I moved last year. I’m living in a little one story out in Dexter, so it’s still an easy commute when I have photo shoots at the school.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up at that. “I’m sorry, you bought a house?!”

“No. I rent a very small ‘house’,” Cas corrected, smiling slightly as he acted out quotations with his hands.

“Dude, still,” Dean returned, looking impressed. “That’s awesome. And you’re working in Detroit?”

“Occasionally. But mostly in Ann Arbor. The University hires me to capture all kinds of live events and shows, even some lectures and seminars. I teamed up with another alumnus who does professional video, and we tag team at student-run events, too, sometimes.”

“That’s really cool, Cas,” Dean replied. Cas couldn’t help but preen slightly—he was proud of his business. Then Dean took a breath, appearing to size Cas up, before asking, “Okay, I have to ask: have you photographed at a Big Ten Football game? Because if you have and no one in my family told me…”

“Only from the stands, unfortunately,” Cas reassured him, grinning fully now. “They have real professionals for the kind of photos you mean.”

“Aw, man, that would be so damn cool.”

“I’m working on it,” Cas offered, winking. “Maybe one day.”

Dean laughed at that, relaxing a little further. There was another slight pause before he asked, “And, uh, what else? You dated a rock star apparently…”

Cas scoffed. “He was no star, whatever Jess might imply.” 

“Okay, a ‘rocker’, then,” Dean tried, exaggeratedly mimicking Cas’s hand quotations. 

“Yes. For a time,” Cas replied dryly. 

“And a…skydiving instructor?”

Confused, Cas tilted his head. “A what? No.” 

“Well, but Charlie said…”

Then it dawned on Cas what Dean must have inferred from earlier in the evening. “Oh, Zeke. No, he wasn’t an actual skydiver. He just went skydiving the one time. But whenever he had any weed or liquor in his system, you could not get him to stop talking about it. How ‘flying transformed him’. He was a good guy, on the whole— still is, I’m sure— but a little too intent on being ‘deep’ for my taste.”

“Heh, I know the type,” Dean offered knowingly. “Did I miss anyone else?”

“Not really. No one notable, anyway.”

Dean nodded a few times, then seemed to steel himself. When he finally spoke, his voice had lowered slightly. “And how’s, uh, Meg?”

The deep misgivings hidden under that question amused Cas to no end, just as it had amused Cas to watch Dean squirm the handful of times he had met the implacable Meg Masters. He tried to hide his smile, but he couldn’t help teasing a bit. “Same as ever. She sends you her regards, by the way.”

Dean visibly gulped, like a vintage Looney Tune. “Her ‘regards’?”

“Well, that’s the polite version,” Cas answered, his smile utterly wicked now. “She tried to send you something else, but I circled back to leave it at home. I didn’t want it accidentally getting mixed in with the wedding presents. One of Jess’s grandparents might have had a heart attack.”

Dean’s eyes were huge as he apparently ran through the implicit possibilities. “I’m not sure whether to be scared or intrigued.”

“Meg does have that effect.”

“You know, I’ve never been sure whether she hates my guts or wants to eat me alive, so I guess that makes sense.” 

“Oh, trust me,” was Cas’s ominous response. “If she actually hated you, you would be painfully certain of that fact.” 

“That’s comforting,” Dean said. “I think.”

Cas looked up at him in reassurance. “It should be.”

With that, it was as if Cas’s eyes were caught on Dean’s. As they stared at each other, Cas couldn’t help but feel like nothing at all had changed since they were back at school. Their connection was as electric as ever. 

After nearly a minute, Dean turned his eyes down. 

“Well, I’m glad you seem to be doing well.”

“Yeah,” Cas replied, shrugging. “Mostly.”

“Only mostly?” Dean asked. 

“It’s far preferable to ‘not at all’.”

“True, true,” was Dean’s vague response. He looked a bit lost again, nodding absently, so Cas took pity on him. 

“We should get some sleep,” he said, patting Dean once on the thigh before pulling back the covers on his own bed. “Lots to do tomorrow, from what I hear.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean agreed, shaking himself a bit and moving toward the dresser. “I’ll continue with the Twenty Questions tomorrow.” But his smirk faded as he picked up his dopp kit and quietly added, “if that’s alright.”

The uncertainty of it nearly broke Cas’s heart. “Of course, Dean.”

“Awesome.” As he headed toward the bathroom, Dean noticed Cas getting into bed and switched off the overhead light, saying, “G’night,” on his way out the door. 

“Goodnight, Dean.” 

For several minutes, Cas simply stared at the closed door where Dean had disappeared. He didn’t know how to feel. It had been so much easier to stay resolved in his betrayal and resentment when he was able to imagine the man’s radio silence might be deliberately malicious. In the nearly four years that had transpired, as Dean had fallen deeper out of contact, Cas’s imagination had been split between two potential explanations. 

Option A assumed that Dean had deliberately backed away, wishing, perhaps, to appease his girlfriend or parents-in-law, or even just to escape into a more “normal” kind of life away from their quirky little clan of Kansans. Cas had thought that the impression he’d made on Lisa when they met had been a good one, but one never really knows, right? If she’d sensed Cas’s own yearning for Dean, perhaps she had felt threatened. The whole idea hurt, because he had always thought Dean would be more loyal to his family. 

But option B was far more painful. That scenario hinged on Dean simply losing interest in Cas. This, above all, was the reason Castiel himself had not tried much to engage Dean in conversation over the last few years. Because no matter how often the logical part of his mind pointed out that Dean might just be busy or distracted or bad at texting, and that an initiated conversation from Cas might be welcomed, he couldn’t shake that lingering possibility that Dean just didn’t give a shit any more. That maybe he never really had in the first place. That maybe the closeness they shared growing up was a product of proximity and pity, for Dean, and the bond Cas had felt was a one-sided fantasy borne of lust and loneliness. That maybe Cas just wasn’t worth holding on to. 

But today, coming into a home full of his patchwork family exclaiming how much they missed him, his usual feeling of unfitness had receded some. He felt warm and welcomed and wanted. Even by Dean. It occurred to Cas that Dean hadn’t needed to come clean to him about Lisa. He could have shaken it off when Cas had called him out, and come up with another lie. Or if he really was some kind of lying asshole, could have just told Cas to fuck off because it wasn’t his business. But Dean wouldn’t do that, and Cas knew it. However much the pain in Cas’s heart had built up an aura of malice around the man, it simply wasn’t his way, and today had proved it. Dean seemed to have awoken out of a dream when he left Lisa, only to find a gaping hole where his friends had once been, and he was lost. Hell, just now, as he asked where Cas lived, the confused, ashamed echo in his eyes had been devastating. Cas never wanted to see that look directed at himself again. 

Castiel turned away from the door and pulled the quilt up to his chin. As he reached over to turn off the bedside lamp, he couldn’t help but wonder about his own part in their separation. It was true that Dean shouldn’t have abandoned their friendship over a lover—it wasn’t the Middle Ages, moving away did not eliminate the possibility of consistent conversation. And yes, Cas deserved friends who cared enough to keep current on his life, whatever his inner demons might claim. But was that really so different from how Cas had responded to his friend’s absence? He, too, had looked up from his work one day to realize he hadn’t spoken to Dean in nearly a year. And as soon as he came to that realization, as soon as he had realized that Dean hadn’t been in touch either, he was so blinded by betrayal that he’d stayed silent out of spite. 

And the fact of the matter was that when Dean had walked away from the longest and most significant romantic relationship of his life, he hadn’t felt comfortable calling to confide in Cas. Rather, he had decided that there was no one with whom he could share his burden. It made Castiel wonder how he would have reacted if Dean had suddenly called for a shoulder to cry on. Would his resentment have made him respond with cruelty? Would he have even answered the phone? What kind of friend did that make him? No, this wasn’t all Dean’s fault. It was unfair to expect the man to know Cas was hurting without ever bothering to tell him. 

Cas snapped his eyes shut as he heard Dean pad back toward their room. He could feel decisions shifting inside himself, and he needed to think before he faced more conversation. With the door softly closed and the lights extinguished, Cas thought he heard Dean pause before getting into bed. Was he watching Cas feign sleep, wondering if he should say goodnight again? After nearly a minute of Cas feeling guilty while trying to keep his breathing convincingly steady, Dean crawled into his bed and settled into stillness. Cas’s muscles uncoiled. He was being ridiculous. Dean had probably just been checking his phone. Cas was the one with the unrequited crush and the penchant for staring. 

As Cas relaxed into the familiar sounds and scents of evening at the lake house, he finally began to unwind. The day, on the whole, had gone fine. Fairly well, actually. It had been an excellent party, and outside of his own head, his interactions with Dean had been normal and straightforward. After building up scenarios of betrayal and disinterest for so long, it had been rather jarring to fall back into rhythm as though barely anything had changed. It had been even more jarring to Cas to realize how happy that made him. Whatever had happened in the last few years, they still had a bond, and Cas found that he didn’t want that jeopardized by anything. 

Cas inched one eye open the tiniest amount, and found Dean had turned to face the door. Safe, he took the opportunity to stare unseen, watching the play of the moonlight across the man’s shoulder blades, the rise and fall of his whispering breaths. This man was not oblivious to what he had done by losing touch. The way his eyes had sparkled with quiet apologies as his friends shared stories over the campfire had made that clear enough. He wanted to fix it, to know as much as Cas would tell him, to be a part of things again. And as Cas gazed through the dark at the back of Dean’s t-shirt, he found he wanted the same thing. He wanted his damn best friend back, whatever happened next. 

Cas closed his eyes again as he felt his hostilities begin to evaporate. The doubts wouldn’t leave completely, he imagined, not overnight. But he was resolved not to let himself be overtaken by fear and insecurity again. Not over Dean. It hadn’t been any fun being mad at him anyway, Cas thought as he began to drift off to sleep. The man was just too damn adorable to resent. 

 

\---

Friday dawned mild and overcast, but the house was quickly alive with activity. As with every wedding, there was quite a bit to be done before Saturday’s ceremony, so all hands were expected to be on deck. 

Cas stumbled downstairs around 9 to find most of the family already fed and put to work. He was immediately handed a plate of eggs and a beautifully enormous mug of coffee and encouraged to eat quickly so they could make space at the table for the more extensive food prep. 

The day rolled on at an impressive pace from there. The Moores rolled up shortly after Cas had finished eating, and set to work with Mary planning out the day and divvying up tasks. Jess’s bridal party filled out as the day wore on, with her college roommate Kat arriving around noon, and her “certified BFF” Grant rushing in an hour or so later with apologies for unforeseen traffic. They were both quickly set down in the dining room with Trish, Sonya, and Laurie to roll silverware for the reception, dividing up a mountain of tiny wildflowers between the rolls for a bit of rustic flair. 

By the afternoon, things were beginning to come together into something resembling order. Bobby and the Winchester men had hung strings of tiny fairy lights throughout the trees in the yard and along the top corners of the barn. Mary had made a run into town with Jess’s parents to pick up a rather stunning quantity of flowers, which would be protected in the barn overnight. Ash and Garth had driven around to put up directional signs from all the major highways for the out-of-town guests, and Ellen had directed a variety of helpers to whip up a delicious lunch, clean it up, and prepare what she could for Saturday’s brunch. 

Cas himself spent most of his day with Charlie, Jo, Ellie, and a seemingly endless roll of “J + S” stickers. Unsurprisingly, both Jess and Sam had been concerned about the weather when they decided on a backyard wedding, and, being chronic over-achievers, had built contingency plans to mitigate their guests’ discomfort. Much of this revolved around the huge barn, which could house both the ceremony and the reception if rain were to interrupt their plan to hold the ceremony under the huge tree at the bottom of the yard. But should they get their wish for brighter weather, they also wanted to ensure their guests were protected from the sun and heat, which could be brutal here, even this early in the summer. As a result, Cas’s little group was tasked with adding a little fun wedding personality to nearly 100 pairs each of plastic sunglasses, travel sized bottles of sunscreen and bug spray, and foldable paper fans. The job became tedious pretty quickly, but the company put Cas in good spirits as Ellie and Jo traded dry banter and Addie sprinted around the yard in a world all her own. And if he occasionally found his gaze wandering toward Dean atop a ladder reaching for a high branch, well, no one needed to know. Except, perhaps, Ellen, who had definitely caught him staring at least once. The eloquence of her left eyebrow is truly a marvel, Cas thought as he quickly returned his attention to the sunglasses in his lap. 

There was a highly entertaining moment around 3 PM where Sam began to panic about how much there was left to do, hands on his hips and voice rising in pitch, in true Sam fashion. Much of the large group was enjoying a late lunch on the front porch as this began, and so ended up witnessing the full arc of Sam’s unravelling from start to finish. Bobby only let it go on for a couple of minutes before he smacked the groom lightly upside the head and sent him inside for a sandwich and a lemonade, crisis effectively averted with the simple phrase, “most of this is already half done, idjit.”

Mary wandered over as soon as Sam was safely inside, and plopped herself on the porch swing between Cas and Jess. Newly arrived Grant turned to Jess from his perch on the front steps and asked, “Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to be freaking out today, Madame Bride?”

Without missing a beat, Jess responded, “Oh, we don’t do traditional gender roles in this family.”

Everyone laughed as she rose to go check on her fiancé, but Cas was instantly distracted by Mary next to him, who was tearing up. At Cas’s questioning look, Mary whispered, “already one of the family,” clearly touched deeply by Jess’s easy acceptance. Then she tossed an arm over Cas’s shoulders in a quick squeeze and asked, “how do you like your new sister, Castiel?”

Warmed as always to be considered an honorary Winchester, Cas tenderly replied, “She’s pretty great, Aunt Mary. I like her quite a lot.”

“Me too, kiddo,” she confided, fighting back against the well of emotion behind her eyes. “Me too. What do you say we make sure she has the best damn wedding ever?” 

“Sounds like an excellent plan,” he answered, leaning into her side in support before they both stood to get back to work. 

By the time dusk had begun to fall, all work for the day had ceased, and everyone was cleaned up and polished. Kevin Tran, Sam’s final groomsman, had arrived just after 6 with assurances that everything at Sam’s office was going just fine without him and he could stop thinking about work until after his honeymoon. As soon as Sam had relaxed (again), they all carpooled into the nearby town, where a charming catered rehearsal dinner had been set up in the hall of the Moore’s hotel. Professor Missouri Moseley, the chosen officiant for tomorrow’s festivities, was already waiting for them in the hall when they arrived, ready to walk the wedding party through the steps of the ceremony before everyone settled in to eat. 

Cas had the pleasure of sitting next to Ms. Moseley while they ate, who proved to be a charming, saucily brilliant woman with a special soft spot for the bride and groom. She informed Cas that the couple had first met under her eye in an elective Philosophy class each had decided to take on a whim during undergrad. She claimed that the moment the two had laid eyes on each other, she had known their love would be vast and magnificent. And while Cas wasn’t usually one for such over-romantic notions, the certainty in her expression had him quite swayed. 

Like the bachelor party the night before, the rehearsal dinner was a fairly relaxed affair. The group had grown, of course, with the arrival of some more extended family and friends over the course of the day. Jess had confided in Cas that there might be some slight family friction on her end this evening, as she had not invited her (rather horrible) biological father, but had invited his mother. Jess and her sisters had always felt connected with Grandma Esther, she told Cas, who had stayed in their lives after the divorce. Apparently, she had sent Mrs. Moore cookies after the split was finalized, along with a letter in which she called her son’s treatment of the family “horrific”, and begged to be allowed to stay in touch with her granddaughters, even if she had to cut all ties with their father to win their trust. Jan Moore, ever the diplomat, had agreed to the contact without requesting such a disownment, and had apparently gotten along with her former mother-in-law ever since. 

In the end, it looked like Jess’s fears had been unfounded: as far as Cas could see, Grandma Esther spent much of the evening engaged in delighted conversation with Rick and his own mother, who Jess and her sisters insisted on calling “Grandma Barb” despite her fairly recent introduction into their lives. It warmed Cas’s heart to see these people work so hard to be good to each other. The Moores, he felt, were a damn inspiration. 

Castiel spent much of the evening meeting and engaging with the various other guests. But, as always, his gaze did wander to Dean now and again. The man seemed to be in his element tonight, showing off his easy charm to the young and old alike, walking the perfect line between “fun” and “acceptable to Baby Boomer sensibilities” that he pulled out so seamlessly in mixed company and professional settings. Apart from one moment where Grandma Deanna (Dean’s namesake) appeared to be interrogating him about something or other, the man seemed largely at ease. 

After dinner had been completed and cleared, there were a handful of brief speeches before the festivities wound down. Rick seemed unbelievably touched to have been asked to speak on his step-daughter’s behalf. He spoke eloquently of the love she had shown toward him and toward Sam, whom she had met just after her mother’s remarriage. Then Mary stood up to give a highly entertaining account of how quickly and forcefully her son had fallen for Jess, complete with a tear-jerking description of all the reasons why she, as a mother, was pleased and grateful that the two young people had found each other at just the right moment. It made for a lovely end to the evening, and as Cas rode back to the lake house with Charlie and Jo, he found himself more at peace with love itself than he had been in quite some time. He had always considered himself more realist than romantic, but every single person in that room tonight was so palpably certain that Sam and Jess had something special, and he found himself inclined to agree. It wasn’t just that Jess had been so strong for Sam when he was struggling with the worst of his addiction, nor that Sam had let her in to his most vulnerable heart at that uncertain time, though those had been beautiful truths to witness. It was something both more and underneath those actions, a deep attachment to and consideration for each other, a melding of minds and hearts without a loss of individuality. It was beautiful and wholly unique. It was everything Cas wished for, but nothing he ever expected to find. He had already found a friend like that, once. And even though that hadn’t been romantic, he wasn’t greedy enough to expect to find it a second time. 

Floating on a wave of conflicting feelings, Castiel bypassed the post-party gathering in the living room and headed up to bed, content to focus on his joy for the bride and groom as he drifted toward sleep. 

\---

“Dean,” Cas said. It was nearly midnight, and the attic room was dark apart from the lamp on Dean’s bedside table. 

“Yeah, Cas?” Dean asked, his voice slightly muffled by the comforter onto which he had just plopped. 

“Why are you in my bed?” 

There was a silence as Cas’s question hung in the scant few inches of air between them. Then Dean turned his head toward Cas with a grimace. “Would you believe me if I said I just really needed a hug?”

Cas blinked. “Yes, actually,” he replied, thinking back over the various uncomfortable conversations he’d witnessed over the course of the evening. 

Apparently uncomfortable once again, Dean gave an awkward self-deprecating laugh and made to get up, but Cas was having none of it. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he exclaimed, and pulled Dean back down for a strange horizontal hug. 

Thirty-six hours earlier, Cas would have been supremely disinclined to make this sort of contact with Dean. Even now, it might not be the wisest of moves: as his trust in the man rebuilt itself, so too did his crush. But there was no resisting the pathetic look on Dean’s face, the aura of utter defeat surrounding him this evening. Cas could survive a damn hug. 

Dean melted almost immediately, indulging in the contact as he adjusted into Cas’s space. “Thanks, Cas.”

Castiel nodded, wondering desperately how best to comfort the newly single in the midst of a joyous nuptial weekend. “It's going to be okay, Dean. You just have to get through one more day, and then the wedding will be over and the lovebirds will be far, far away where you don't have to look at them anymore.” 

Dean gave a disjointed headshake from his place on Cas’s chest, as though shaking off an insect. “It's not even really them, or the wedding. I'm not regretting what Lis and I decided, or thinking about getting back together with her or anything like that. I don't even really wish she was here, frankly. I just... people keep giving me that knowing look and saying it'll be my wedding next, and I just feel like I've failed, somehow.”

Slightly thrown, Cas adjusted as quickly as he could to this new line of thinking. “You haven't failed, Dean. You two were honest with yourselves and managed to walk away before it went completely to shit. And you managed it with minimal fallout. That's pretty baffling, really. Most couples just cling harder at that point, and it rarely seems to end well. You did what was right for both of you.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Dean assured him. “Objectively, at least. I keep running those kinds of thoughts through my head like a mantra, and it helps. But then another damn relative walks up and gives me that same wink, like they expect me to be happily married to my college sweetheart by the fall, just like Sam, and I spiral down all over again.”

Cas couldn’t help his wince at that. “They don't know any better. They just want to see you content.”

“I know. Hell, that's what I want too, really, to be able to settle down and try my hand at being a real adult sometime soon.” His words had a rehearsed finality to them, like that might be all he had to say. But with a fortifying breath, he continued. “But I don't just want to be comfortable, or whatever, you know? Maybe it's naïve, but whoever I end up with...I'd like to be really happy, too.”

“Of course,” Cas offered, kindly, a bit unnerved at how easily Dean wrote off his own happiness as a ‘naïve’ idea. “You shouldn't have to ‘settle’ in order to settle down.”

There was a suspended beat as soon as Cas finished speaking, a tiny shift in the air as the tone of the conversation stood on a precipice. Dean leaned back so he could see Cas’s face, and just started for a moment. Then they both burst out laughing. 

After a few giggle-filled moments, Dean calmed enough to say, “Yeah, okay, Yoda.”

Happy to take that bait, Cas made his best attempt at a Yoda impression. “Settle you need not...”

“No...”

“...to settled down be.”

“Please stop doing that voice.”

“Marry or marry not...”

“Ugh.” Attempting to look disgusted and failing miserably, Dean moved over to his own bed. 

“There is no try,” Cas concluded, his head bowed in faux-serious Jedi reverence. 

“I hate you,” Dean said, as deadpan as he could manage. 

“You love me,” Cas retorted before he could think it through. Then he tried not to panic as the previous tense gravity seemed to flood right back into the room. 

Dean looked over at him, eyes still filled with mirth, from his own bed, and admitted, “I missed you.” 

“I've missed you too,” Cas replied, unrepentant and suddenly brave. 

After a minute or two, Dean’s smile faded. “I'm really sorry, Cas,” he confessed. 

Lost in the twists of this conversation, Cas rolled onto his side to fully face Dean. “For what?”

“For basically evaporating out of your life?” He looked nonplussed that this hadn’t been at the forefront of Cas’s thoughts. And perhaps his surprise was justified—he couldn’t know that Cas had largely made peace with this last night. 

Hoping to project adamant honesty, Cas declared, “It's okay, Dean. It happens.” 

“No, but, it shouldn't,” Dean argued back. “We're family.” 

It was such a rush of warmth to hear Dean say that again that Cas couldn’t contain his smile. “Well, that's the thing about family, isn’t it? No matter how long between visits, they're still there when you need them.”

“Even when someone falls down a relationship black hole and forgets about the rest of the world for a few years?”

Unable to tilt his head while lying on his side, Cas simply smiled wider for emphasis. “I'd say especially then.”

Dean looked away with an uncertain huff. “Yeah, well you're a damn saint.”

Opting to take that literally, Cas laughed. “Hardly.”

Dean looked up at his emphatic tone and began to chuckle as well, no doubt thinking back on tales of Cas and Meg’s more colorful undergraduate escapades. “Okay, fair enough”

“Seriously, though, Dean,” Cas said, hoping to re-center the conversation with a little less shame, “you can stop worrying about it right now. Communication goes both ways.” 

“Yeah, but—”

“Nope,” Cas cut in. “I, too, have the power to use a cellular telephone, Mr. Winchester. I could have bombarded you with annoying texts day and night until you gave in and returned my calls, if I so chose.” He shot raised eyebrows at Dean until the man rolled his eyes in reluctant concession. “But instead I chose to be stubborn and silent and passive aggressive, so that's on me. Please allow me to insert my own apology here, and let's leave it at that. Deal?”

Dean considered him, but ultimately gave a nod. “Yeah, deal.” 

They stared between their beds for one ringing moment before Cas finally spoke again. “We should probably get some sleep. Jo tells me you two are planning to go pester Sam awake at the crack of dawn.”

Grinning, Dean got up and grabbed his toothbrush from the dresser, presumably planning to head off to the bathroom. “Ahh, yes. It'll be just like the good ol’ days,” he offered, winking at Cas in homage to pranks past. “You'll join us, right? I brought extra shaving cream if you're game to take part in some early morning Groom decoration.”

Cas rolled over onto his back, his own mischievous grin creeping into place. “Is your mother aware that her son's wedding day might begin with him murdering the best man?”

“I mean, she raised us,” he pointed out, digging pajamas from his suitcase as he spoke. “She's come to expect it.”

“Well, then,” Cas said, tone solemn, “as long as Aunt Mary is prepared, I'm obviously in.”

Dean’s thousand-watt smile was nearly blinding in the dim room. “Awesome. I'll wake you at 5:30.”

“Ugh,” Cas ejected, pleasure in this plan evaporating immediately. “There had better be coffee.”

Stopping in his walk to the door, Dean levelled Cas with a sarcastic look. “You really think I'd try to get you up without it?”

“Good boy. I have trained you well.” 

Deadpan once again, Dean barked in response.

“Good night, Dean,” Cas replied, settling in contentedly to go back to sleep. 

“Sweet dreams, Cas,” came the response as Dean tiptoed down the hall toward the bathroom.

\------

Miraculously, no murders were committed on Saturday morning when Sam Winchester awoke at 6 AM covered from head to toe in shaving cream. His high-pitched screams woke all the occupants of the lake house, who quickly had their annoyance quelled by the sight of a cream covered Sam chasing Dean, Jo, and Cas into the woods, completely unaware that Charlie was catching the entire event on video. Sam’s return trip was equally entertaining, given that his luxurious hair was still streaked with white foam as he pouted his way up to the third-floor shower grumbling about firing his grooms-people and standing up with just Kevin. Mary just handed him a coffee and promised to make the pranksters scrub the shaving cream trail out of the lake house rugs in punishment. He headed up the stairs in much better spirits, and his three tormentors set to cleaning, quite pleased with the morning’s work. 

With the wakeup call effectively complete, the morning of setup began in earnest. Jess’s portion of the bridal party was executing their various preparations at the Moore’s hotel in town, so the remaining setup for the ceremony fell to the Winchesters and their various helpers. When Cas arrived in the living room around 6:30, hoping to grab some food and a task, he found Mary, Ellen, and Sam all crowded around the TV with rapt attention. 

“Looks like we’re good to go with Plan A,” Ellen declared as the forecast wrapped up. “You’ve got some luck, there, kiddo.”

“Are you sure we should risk it, though?” Sam asked immediately. He was actually wringing his hands, like some kind of vintage cartoon character. “But what if they’re wrong? What if it starts raining in the middle of the ceremony, and –“

“Then we’ll all move into the barn and keep going,” Mary assured him. “It’ll be fine, Sam.”

“But—“ at Mary’s and Ellen’s identical looks of motherly intensity, Sam relented. “Okay. You’re right. It’ll be fine.”

“That’s the spirit,” Cas offered, descending the last few steps. Sam shot him a half-assed look of betrayal, clearly feeling he should still be angry about the wakeup call, but too distracted to actually sustain his annoyance to a convincing degree. 

He turned back to his mother. “Okay, so where do you want me to start?”

“Nope,” Ellen interjected. “You’re not on setup duty, young man. It is your wedding day.”

“But there’s so much to do!” Sam’s affront was adorable, though the hint of panic in his eyes was a bit disconcerting.

“Honey, there are eleven other people in this house this morning. Plus, Rick, Trevor, and Kevin offered to drive over at noon to lend a hand as well. We can handle this.”

“But—“

“No,” Ellen said, firm as ever in her loving way. “You, young man, are going to get a big plate of breakfast, and relax. If it would make you feel better to sit on the porch and boss us all around, fine. But you will not lift a finger today. Understand?”

Sam seemed to be warring with his more chivalrous instincts as he gazed at her, but there was no way he could resist the power of that look on Ellen’s face. “Fine,” he said, a bit petulant in his defeat. With a nod, the women turned toward the kitchen. “But can I at least—“

“No,” both women replied, not even turning back.

“You didn’t even hear what I –“

“No!”

Sam deflated a bit, left standing in the middle of the living room looking lost and a little desperate. Hoping to help, Cas approached him. 

“We’ve got this, Sam. You just relax, and enjoy today.”

“Honestly? I was kind of looking forward to having stuff to do all morning. Something to focus on other than, you know…” Sam trailed off. 

“The fact that your whole life will change permanently this afternoon?” Cas prompted, wry smile in place to make his joking tone clear.

Sam blinked at him. “I was thinking more about how many ways I could fuck up today and ruin everything. But thanks for raising the stakes there, Cas. Your sense of humor is as blunt as ever.”

Cas grinned. “My wit is nothing if not stealthy and brutal.” That, at least, had Sam smiling. Cas patted his shoulder and started toward the kitchen. “You know,” he mused, looking back at Sam. “If you need a distraction, you could always do a little reading.”

Sam lit up like a Christmas tree as he remembered the manuscript. He broke into a wide smile and bolted up the stairs, calling the familiar phrase, “You’re an angel, Cas!”

Chuckling, Cas muttered his perennial reply, “so they tell me,” and headed in to breakfast. 

Even with the small army of helpers, the morning was a busy one. They needed setup complete before 1:00 at the latest so that everyone could get cleaned up and dressed before guests started arriving. Cas, wanting to be as useful as humanly possible, bounced from task to task without complaint, and by the time Rick, Trevor, and Kevin arrived, the space was really coming together. The yard had a soft, rustic feel, with old, mismatched rugs laid out in front of the huge tree that would stand as the altar, and draped over the hay bales at the fire pit for the reception. One long, slim, blue rug was laid out as the aisle, running up between the chairs and around to the side of the barn for the procession, and it had been lined with small bundles of wildflowers, expertly arranged by Charlie in borrowed brightly-colored vases. They had set out rows of folding chairs, and decorated the tables behind the guest’s seats, which overflowed with the weather aids Cas had helped sticker the day before. Parking instruction signs, painted on stakes, were set up along the lawn to ease the guests’ arrival, and dresses and suits were steamed and pressed en masse in the living room. The trio from the Moore’s hotel arrived around the same time as Dean’s college friend Aaron, who would be acting as the DJ during the reception, so they graciously helped him set up his equipment in the corner of the barn. Along the other side, Ellen directed the caterers to get the buffet laid out for dinner, placing what was needed so that food could be brought in seamlessly after the ceremony. 

All in all, it went fairly smoothly, all things considered. There was a small uproar around 12:30 about the lack of pins for the homemade wildflower boutonnieres, but the crisis was averted by Kevin, who sat down and made magic with some clothespins, twine, and a hot glue gun. That was about the point when Chuck’s book ceased to hold Sam’s worry at bay, however, so Dean dragged him upstairs for a pep talk. Whatever he said must have worked, because by the time Cas arrived in the attic room to get dressed, Sam had stopped breathing like a tea kettle and looked composed, if a bit subdued. 

Shortly after Sam and Jess had gotten engaged, Cas had received a call from the soon-to-be-groom that had begun with the unsettling question, “hey, can we talk –like, face to face?” A FaceTime call had followed (immediately, thank goodness), in which Sam had asked Castiel to be “completely honest about something.”

“You know how much I love your work, Cas,” he had said, earnest and sincere as always. “That portrait you took of Jess and I last Christmas is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. And I know you’d capture our wedding perfectly. But,” he had paused then, and looked dead into the camera with his most hopeful puppy dog eyes. “I’d really like it if you’d be one of my grooms-people, Cas. You’re my brother, you know? In all the ways that matter. I want you to share this with us, and I don’t want you to have to work at the same time, you know? I mean, I get that you love being a photographer, but it’s also work, right?”

Cas had nodded his agreement at this, pleased to see Sam relax a fraction at his acceptance. 

“So, uh,” Sam had continued, eyes huge. “Will you be horribly offended if we hire another photographer to capture the ceremony? I’d much rather have you up there with me than just documenting it.” 

Cas hadn’t hesitated before agreeing, touched to be so easily included in the wedding party, and rather relieved to be spared the position of wedding photographer. This field was not his specialty, and he would have been terrified about potentially ruining Sam and Jess’s memory of the event due to lack of expertise. 

In the end, it had all worked out perfectly. Professor Moseley’s granddaughter was an actual professional wedding photographer, and Cas had been able to at least lend his skills to the cause by looking at her portfolio and assuring Sam that her work was top notch. They had hired her the next day, and Cas was happy to relax into the wedding itself, leaving the art making to the professionals. 

Patience Turner, the photographer in question, showed up promptly at 1PM to start in on pre-ceremony photos. Cas was slightly baffled by the sheer volume of images she was tasked with capturing, but was very impressed when she showed him her early stills of the yard’s finished setup, empty but glowing in the noonday sun. Patience’s business was a two-person operation, he learned, and her co-founder Kaia was in town, meticulously capturing Jess’s transformation into bride. Patience attempted the same with the grooms-people as Sam, Dean, Jo, Cas, and Kevin emerged in their grey summer suits (mercifully jacket free, given the heat) and donned their freshly MacGyvered boutonnieres on the sunny attic porch. Jo looked stunning in a silvery grey sleeveless jumpsuit, and in an uncharacteristic show of femininity had even woven some flowers into her hair to match those pinned to her chest. When Cas commented on how nice she looked, she punched him hard in the shoulder, but he could have sworn she blushed, as well. 

They all did their best to keep Sam laughing, as he fretted over whether he had adequately memorized his vows, but when Mary materialized on the porch, clad in a gorgeous floral sundress, the need for distraction evaporated. Sam was just as tearful as his proud Mother, and it was time to start the ceremony. They headed downstairs, past the crowd of guests who had been ushered toward their seats by Charlie and Sonya, and took their positions to begin the ceremony. 

Jess had been adamant from the first that they eliminate as much “outdated heteronormative crap” from her wedding a possible. That was her term for it, but Sam had happily repeated it throughout the planning process with pride. She would be the last to come down the aisle, as Sam was unwilling to forego the traditional bridal reveal, but the rest was up on the chopping block from day one. The result of this manifesto was a laid-back ceremony with a homemade feel, acknowledging faith in the broadest sense, but entirely non-denominational. And Cas, for one, enjoyed it immensely. 

The wedding party processed solo, with the members of Jess’s quartet following Sam’s down the aisle while Trish played a soaring rendition of “Unchained Melody” on the viola. Little Addy followed, precious as a cherub in her tiny silver dress, tossing wildflowers with adorable precision just as she had, clearly, been instructed. When she reached the tree, she looked up at her mom with huge eyes and asked, “did I do it right?”, which generated a chorus of “awws” from the assembled guests as her father herded her over to a seat in the front row. 

When Jess herself emerged, Cas could swear she glowed with joy. Her hair was braided with tiny blue flowers to match the bridal party’s attire, and the train of her soft lacy dress shifted along the carpeted aisle like a creamy river. Both she and her mother beamed as they reached the end of the aisle and parted ways with a silent hug, and from that moment on she only had eyes for Sam. 

The rite itself was fairly brief. Professor Moseley, clad in what appeared to be judge’s robes of stunning blue, treated the assembled guests to her thoughts on the ingredients for a strong marital partnership. She gave the bride and groom her best advice, both as a mentor and as a friend, then led them through their vows. Through it all, Sam looked like he was glimpsing the face of heaven, and Jess looked no less enraptured. It was beautiful, by any standard, and if Dean seemed to be wiping his eyes by the end, Castiel couldn’t entirely blame him. 

Rings were exchanged, as were kisses and words of love, and soon enough, Professor Moseley was pronouncing them married, releasing the wedding party to the house for photos, and the other guests toward the barn to begin the reception. 

The atmosphere back at the house was giddy as Patience and Kaia shuffled them all through a variety of groupings and poses. They were relaxed, but professional, Kaia’s dry humor keeping her charges from spiraling into annoyance while Patience’s kind words drew more sincere expressions of joy than Cas would have expected in such a still, static session. They captured action shots of Sam and Jess signing their marriage certificate, along with a number of images of the wedding party on the nearby beach in varying states of decorum and hilarity. At Charlie’s suggestion, they even set up a highly entertaining series of images with the Winchester-Singer-Harvelle-Novak clan and their various adopted members posing on the wide front porch like the sort of melodramatic Victorian family portrait you might see on the set of a horror film, all straight faces and haughty expressions. They welcomed the Moores up for some of these last silly photos as well, and the whole thing devolved into giggles pretty quickly. Cas couldn’t wait to see them developed in black and white. He was certain any one of them would look spectacular framed above the lake house mantel, a perfect testament to the love and humor that had radiated through this property since the first time they all arrived. 

The reception was in full swing by the time the wedding party made their way back down to the barn. Aaron, the DJ, marked their arrival by blaring Queen’s “You’re My Best Friend” over his impressive speakers so the guests could turn their spots in the buffet line to applaud them all. 

The barn itself had been impressively transformed, with high top tables sprinkled around the perimeter, marking out where a dance floor could develop later on. Lights twinkled in strings along the ceiling, and flowers dotted the space, arranged in pots, hanging in braided garland, even set in sconce-like wall fixtures. The guests spilled through the room and out onto the lawn in groups, free to bring their food to the picnic tables or rug-covered hay bales to eat and mingle. Some pulled chairs over from where the ceremony had been to create little circles of their own, and Cas even spotted a group of teenagers who had pilfered one of the rugs to setup a picnic down in view of the beach. 

Cas himself dove into the crowd with great interest. Crowds weren’t always his favorite, but this one was wonderfully varied, an odd mix of old friends from Lawrence, new acquaintances from the weekend’s festivities, and fresh faces he had never met and might never again after today. He met a number of people about whom he had been hearing stories for years, including Pamela Barnes, Sam’s NA sponsor. She was a delight to speak with, and spent about a quarter of an hour talking to him about her work as a tattoo artist, overtly trying to convince Cas to finally take the plunge on that rib tattoo he had been considering. He re-introduced himself to Sam’s college friend Jake, who was now working in internet marketing and offered his services to Castiel’s business. He even reconnected with Jody Mills and Donna Hascum, Lawrence locals who had been good friends of his mother’s before her death. Sam had tutored their foster daughter, Claire, when he had taken his year off from college, and they were proud to share that his mentorship had helped steer Claire in a new direction. She had just finished her second year studying Psychology at Kansas State, and was apparently volunteering this summer at a women’s shelter, hoping to one day specialize in addiction recovery and domestic violence prevention. 

Cas’s Dad called around 5:30, hoping to speak with the bride and groom, so Cas wandered through the crowd to find them. He watched in contentment as Chuck gave his love and congratulations over FaceTime, and offered an eloquent blessing on their union in his soft-spoken way. They were both effusive with their thanks, and let their appreciation turn upon Cas in the wake of the call, each hugging him deeply and thinking him for his help and support throughout the weekend. He suspected they might have gone on praising him for ages in the haze of their bliss if Aaron hadn’t called the guests to attention for the next stage of the festivities. 

Things progressed more predictably from there, though still with the unique flair of this bride and groom deeply ingrained. Dean gave an excellent speech, complete with AV support from Ash (the infamous Jar Jar Binks impression was even funnier when projected across the entire south wall of the barn) and a beautiful admission of his respect for his baby brother and brand-new sister-in-law. Ellie and Laurie, who had been named Jess’s “co-Best-Women”, gave a joint speech of their own to great hilarity, during which they jumped on the projector bandwagon to treat the guests to a variety of embarrassing photos of Jess throughout her life. John got up to give an unexpectedly emotional speech about how inspiring his son was to him, and Jan stood after to speak of the light Jess had always brought to everyone around her. And once it was clear there wasn’t a dry eye left on the property, Aaron invited the couple of the hour to the floor for their first dance. 

It was all quite moving – no less so because Cas had been a witness to the hardship that had been weathered to reach this point. As he watched Sam and his bride sway together under the fairy lights, incandescent with joy, he couldn’t help but be thankful that the two had found each other and held on through it all. That at least this one time, love stood as the victor. 

Couples joined the dance floor at random from there, all apparently content to move together to the sounds of Sam and Jess’s (rather eclectic) playlist. Happier at a table in the corner with his excellent Virgin Watermelon Margarita, Cas simply watched for a while, chatting with the various guests who wandered by as the afternoon wore on. After a while, he found himself alone in his corner with Dean, both of them relaxed and content, despite the heat, chatting about the afternoon’s successes in the fading light. 

“It all turned out pretty great, didn’t it?” Dean was asking, gaze turned mistily toward where his brother was dancing with Ellie Moore. 

“Indeed,” Cas agreed. “And all the more impressive for the brief planning period, I’d say.”

Dean nodded, smirking. “Well, combine Jess’s drive and Sam’s obsessive attention to detail with Mom and Ellen’s aggressive follow through, and you get magic.”

Cas grinned at him, and they lapsed into silence, watching the crowd and listening to Dolly’s voice reverberate around the huge barn. Claire, Jody and Donna’s daughter, was cozied up in the doorway with the photographer, Kaia, and both looked a little flushed as they leaned their heads close to see the screen of Kaia’s camera. Dean seemed to have noticed them as well, and suddenly looked a bit too wistful for such a joyous day. 

“So, what’s next for you,” Cas asked, hoping to refocus his friend on something more hopeful than lost love. “You said you’re going home to Lawrence for a bit?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied, not quite brightening just yet. His brow furrowed. 

Cas ventured a tentative guess. “Not looking forward to it, so much?”

“No, I am,” Dean disagreed, still concentrating hard. “It’ll be nice to be back with Mom and Dad for a bit on my own, you know? I haven’t been there without Lisa in ages.”

“But?”

“But,” Dean repeated, grimacing a bit. “I’m a bit worried about going there without a plan for what comes after. I don’t want to get stuck, you know?”

Cas considered him. “You think you’ll just stay?”

“I think Dad will want me to,” Dean admitted. “He’s been trying to persuade me to bring my expertise back to work with him and Bobby since I finished my degree. He’s fairly subtle, but he’s relentless.” 

“And you think he’ll see this as the perfect opportunity,” Cas guessed, not really even phrasing it like a question. That did sound like John.

Dean clearly agreed. “I’d place bets he’ll see it as a foregone conclusion once he hears Florida’s in my rearview.” 

“It might not be a terrible place to land for a little while, if you want time to really look around at your options,” Castiel suggested. 

“But do you really think he’d let me leave after that? I mean,” he ran a hand through his hair in agitation. “Sure, he’d let me. But he’d be hurt. It’d really be personal this time, you know?” 

Cas could see that. For Dean to come back and then actively decide on bigger and better things would hit John like a physical blow. He had gotten used to the Florida move over time, but he had been able to rationalize it with the fact that Dean had Lisa’s desires to consider. 

But now, if Dean wanted to move somewhere new without offending his father’s pride, he would need to come in to the conversation with a clear plan. John had always been something of a strategic thinker, a quiet presence with a mind constantly planning and adjusting. And he could get so wrapped around an idea sometimes that the merest question of the plan could feel like a personal attack. But if Dean could get in with a clear, rational idea of what was next before John got his heart set on his own set of outcomes, perhaps they could both emerge without hurt feelings or broken promises. 

An idea began to form in Castiel’s mind, but before he could voice it, he was distracted by a movement at his elbow. Mary and Ellen had joined them at the high top, and for the first time in hours, neither of them looked happy. 

Dean and Cas exchanged a look as the women just stared sternly at Dean. This couldn’t be good. 

The moment seemed to crystalize, all four of them frozen and silent, until Dean finally cleared his throat. “Uh… Hey, Mom.”

“I’m hoping you can explain something for me, Dean,” she replied, face unreadable, but unmistakably covering something underneath. 

Dean glanced at Cas again, clearly nervous. “Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

“Well,” Mary began, a gleam of anger clear in her eye. “Jan Moore was just chatting with Ellen and me. She wanted us to know how sorry she was that she wasn’t able to meet Lisa today, but she was very excited for her sister, and hoped we’d send out pictures of the new baby when we get them.” 

Shit. 

If it hadn’t been such a moment of crisis, Cas would have laughed aloud at Dean’s expression. His body had gone completely taut, his face frozen with his lip between his teeth in some sort of aborted show of nerves. Cas worried he might bite right through that lip in panic. 

When no response came, Mary continued, color rising even as her voice remained hushed. “It’s a good thing Ellen was thinking on her feet, at least. Because that was quite a shock to try to cover up, let me tell you. Especially since I was just about to tell her how sad we were to hear that Lisa’s grandmother might be dying. I was about ten seconds from making a complete ass of myself in front of my son’s brand-new mother-in-law, and I do not like to think what would have happened if Ellen hadn’t saved me with photos of Garth’s new nephew.” 

Ellen piped up, then, with a completely deadpan “You’re welcome.”

Dean grimaced, finally freeing his lip. “Uh… thanks.” 

Mary tilted her head, eyebrows raised in the unmistakable expression of a mother who is beyond done with her children’s bullshit. “What is going on, Dean? Where is Lisa?”

Cas’s mind was awhirl, trying desperately to concoct a way out of this mess. But suddenly Dean squared his shoulders and made it unnecessary. 

“Honestly? I don’t know,” Dean whispered, careful not to be overheard beyond their little table. “Just hanging out at home, probably. We broke up.” 

There was a long, dark moment before Mary spoke. “I see. And then you lied about it to all of us.” She was quiet, but her fury was palpable, even in whisper. “May I ask what exactly made you think you couldn’t, at least, tell your mother the truth? Have I been so aggressive in my hopes that you will find a mate in life that I have made you ashamed to be honest with me? Or, perhaps, afraid of me?”

Dean started to babble, shaking his head in desperation. “NO, Mom, that’s—it’s not—of course I’m not—“ 

Cas couldn’t stand it – he had to intervene. “Mary, it was my idea.” Three sets of eyes turned on him. Well, he was in it now, so he let himself ramble toward a solution. “It’s not Dean’s fault. We just—he told me first, because he was worried about how everyone else would handle the news. And, frankly we were both concerned that this would dampen Sam’s excitement. You remember how he was when Cassie left? Or when Dean ended things with Benny? Hell, even when I split with Balthazar- he was devastated. This is supposed to be the best day of his life, and we didn’t want him so distraught for his brother that he couldn’t enjoy his own wedding. It seemed better to keep Dean’s news under wraps through the weekend, and ask forgiveness later. But we really didn’t want to lie to any of you. I’m really sorry, and so is Dean, so please don’t be angry with him. His heart was in the right place.”

Ellen still looked skeptical, but Mary had turned toward the dancefloor midway through Cas’s little monologue. She seemed to soften some as her eyes followed her youngest son’s joyous movements around the dance floor. 

“Alright, fine,” she relented, somewhat grudgingly. “Your reasoning there is understood. And your remorse is both noted and appreciated.” 

“I really am sorry, Mom,” Dean offered, contrite. “I just didn’t want to make this weekend about me.”

That made Ellen snort a bit derisively, muttering, “Some things never change.”

But Mary seemed mollified. “Come here,” she said, wrapping her son in a hug before holding him back for a scrutinizing look. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, actually,” Dean reassured her. “It’s been long enough now that I’ve gotten most of the…”

Cas realized the mistake a moment too late. 

Mary forestalled the rest of Dean’s sentence with a raised finger, closing her eyes in forced calm. “I’m sorry. What do you mean, ‘it’s been long enough’? When did this happen?”

Dean winced. “February?”

“Dean Michael Winchester, what do you mean ‘February’?” Mary’s ability to whisper a scream was quite impressive, Cas mused wildly. He prepared to intervene again, but Dean cut in quickly. He sounded a little angry himself, this time. 

“I mean, Mom, that at the very moment Sam was on one knee waiting for Jess to give him an answer, I was sitting in my bedroom with my girlfriend discussing the fact that we weren’t in love with each other anymore. And speaking, as you just were, of unpleasant surprises,” he continued, clearly on a roll. “Would you like me to describe the shock that comes from calling your brother to commiserate about a failed relationship only to have him immediately shout ‘holy shit, Dean, I’m getting married’? Yeah, I couldn’t wait to tell him my news after that.” 

There was a stunned silence at their little table. Dean was rarely so overtly bitter, especially around his mother. 

Ellen recovered herself first. “Fine, but it is June, son. You couldn’t have mentioned this at any point in the last couple months?” 

“When would have been an appropriate time, though, really?” His anger had burnt out, leaving him just sounding exhausted now. “In March, when he flew down for a day to ask me to be his Best Man? In April, when he was calling me every day to agonize about rings and vows and tux fittings? Last month after the wedding shower?”

Cas could see the wheels turning in Mary’s head, and jumped in with a little logic of his own. “The unbelievable speed with which you two planned this lovely wedding in an admirably-brief four months didn’t leave a lot of time to break bad news without the disappointment spilling over into today. “

Ellen, who was on Cas’s side of the table, glanced his way and muttered, “Flattery. Wise choice.”

“Mom,” Dean continued, looking apologetic again, but firmly resolved. “He needed to be able to talk to his Best Man throughout this whole process. I couldn’t risk him being afraid to say the word ‘love’ in front of me.” 

Pursing her lips, Mary rubbed at her temples. “Alright, alright, fine. I hate this, but you’re not entirely wrong.” The admission looked like it cost her, and she quickly pointed her finger at Dean to add, “Doesn’t mean I’m done being mad.”

“I know,” Dean allowed. “You have every right to be. And for the record, I was planning to tell you and Dad tomorrow. You can interrogate me about it as much as you want back at the house. “He paused, looking up at his mother with guilt positively dripping from his sad, green eyes. “That is…if I’m still welcome.” 

Ellen, ever the foiler of childlike sympathy scams, smacked Dean upside the head. Hard. 

“Ouch!” he cried, affronted. 

Ellen just pronounced him an “Idjit”, and the tension was successfully broken. 

“Don’t worry,” Mary warned, though the stiffness had largely been released from her shoulders. “I’m preparing the inquisition as we speak.” She hugged him again, then, and Cas could see Dean was soon to be forgiven. 

“Yeah. Thanks, Mom,” Dean said, sounding a bit choked up as he stood there in his Mom’s embrace. 

Hoping to spare them all a weepy scene, Cas interjected, “Care to dance, Dean?”

Clearing his throat, Dean answered, “Yeah, sure.”

Mary shook herself a bit, smiling at them mistily. “I should go see about the cake, anyway. Have fun, boys.” 

She headed off across the room toward the catering refrigerators, looking much more relaxed than she had on her approach. Cas took Dean’s hand to lead him out to the floor, noticing with trepidation that Ellen was giving him a look. The kind that deserved to be pronounced with a capital “L”. The kind she had given him the day before upon catching him ogling Dean on a ladder. But, he thought, a more encouraging version of that particular Look. That could be a problem—Ellen was too sharp for Cas’s own good. But he’d deal with that later. Right now, he was standing with Dean in the middle of a crowd of couples while Led Zeppelin’s “Rain Song” turned the mood slow and tender, and he internally cursed himself for this gross miscalculation. 

“We don’t actually have to dance,” he told Dean, trying desperately to sound casual with the offer, even as his body lit up with conflicting desires. “I was just trying to find a way for us to escape.” 

Chuckling drily, Dean took Cas’s waist. “Yes, we do. Ellen will be watching, even if Mom isn’t. Come on.”

Deciding to go with the flow, (and, truthfully, just masochistic enough to relish this forced closeness) Castiel assumed the position as well, winding his arms loosely around Dean’s neck. They began to sway together to the steady beat, surrounded by chattering couples as a warm evening breeze blew in through the open doors of the barn. 

After a moment, Dean spoke, breath ghosting past Cas’s ear where their temples rested together. “Thanks for the save, back there,” he said, his low words very nearly making Cas shiver. “I was way not prepared for that conversation to happen today.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Cas replied, rumbling voice just loud enough to be heard. “I think it could have gone a lot worse.” 

Dean chuckled. “Well, it ain’t over yet, but, yeah. Coulda been a hell of a lot worse.”

They lapsed into silence again. Cas wondered if Dean was relieved, or if he was still looking ahead at his trip to Lawrence with trepidation. At least now he wouldn’t need to figure out how to break the news to Mary. But, then, they hadn’t filled her in on the permanence of Dean’s departure from Florida, so there might still be fireworks to come in the Winchester house. 

It hit Cas, again, how significantly Dean’s life had changed in these last months, without any of the extended family knowing. He had left the last 6 or so years of his life utterly behind when he drove up here, and he had no intention of going back. It seemed unthinkable to simply pick up and go, like Dean had done, to start completely over from scratch. The mere idea of it terrified Cas on Dean’s behalf, whatever assurances the man had given. But, then, Cas had made his life in Michigan without a partner. It was entirely his own, chosen from his own heart with only logistics to consider. It had been different for Dean, and perhaps this difference was too substantial for Cas to grasp without his own form of experience. 

The idea Cas had begun to foster before Mary’s interruption returned to the forefront of his mind. It might be the tiniest bit selfish of him to even think of it, but—well, maybe that was okay. Maybe everyone could win, this time. He resolved to at least put it out there. Give Dean an option, and accept whatever came next with grace. No matter what happened, he would not lose touch with Dean again. On that point, he was resolute. 

“I have an idea for you,” Cas confessed, taking advantage of their position to speak his suggestion right into Dean’s ear. And conveniently eliminating the need for eye contact at the same time.

“Oh yeah?” There was amusement in Dean’s voice as he spun them around the floor. “That sounds ominous.”

“Hardly,” Cas playfully scoffed. “It’s a proposition of sorts. For your immediate, post-Lawrence future. But if you’re not interested…”

The teasing landed perfectly, and Dean jumped in right away. “No way, any ideas are welcome on that score.” Then, in an almost flirty tone that made Castiel deeply regret his ‘no eye contact’ plan, he added, “I am definitely interested.” 

Cas swallowed hard. He was imagining it, right? That… that sex voice? It had to be the ambiance—the barn full of fairy lights, the couples pressed close, the sultry tone of Jimmy Page’s guitar. Down boy, Cas told himself firmly as he turned his focus back to the task at hand. 

“Well,” he began, aiming for nonchalant. “Have you considered looking for work up north? Perhaps around Detroit? There is a reason we call it the Motor City, after all.” 

Dean hummed, apparently intrigued. “That’s an interesting idea.” 

“And there are some true car lovers around the city who love their classics. I bet you could find a number of specialty garages to work at, at least for a start. Maybe even start your own business if you don’t find what you’re looking for. I have to think there’s a serious market for your sort of focus throughout the Metro Area. 

“I see where you’re going with this, I think. With a plan this specific, Dad’ll see it as an opportunity rather than an insult.” 

“Exactly,” Cas agreed. “Even if you just come up for the rest of the summer, put some feelers out, think of it as a fact-finding mission. Then you could either settle in the area or not, depending on what you find.” He could feel Dean nodding, and couldn’t resist a little extra nudge. “Honestly, I think the Woodward Dream Cruise would be like your own personal Nirvana.” He could see it in his mind’s eye: taking Dean to the Dream Cruise would be like bringing an artist to the Met for the first time. He truly hoped he could have the pleasure of witnessing that, even it if meant long sweaty hours stuck in traffic. 

“I have no clue what that means, but it definitely sounds intriguing,” Dean replied. “Any chance you’d be able to point me toward a cheap place to crash up there in the Frozen North, Cas?” 

Castiel rolled his eyes, though Dean wouldn’t be able to see that part. “Well, it will categorically NOT be frozen during the next two months. But, as it happens, I might know someone in the greater Metro Detroit area who has a very comfortable pull out couch available for a guest this summer.”

“Oh, you do, do you,” Dean laughed, clearly catching on. 

“Indeed, I do. He doesn’t live right in the city, but I’m confident you’d find Dexter, Michigan more than acceptable for your immediate needs, at least until you have solidified your more permanent plans.” 

“Well, that sounds awesome, Cas,” Dean said. “Tell your friend with the couch that I’m definitely interested.”

Cas couldn’t help but grin. “I’ll let him know. But, spoiler: he’s going to be thrilled to host you.”

“I’m glad,” Dean murmured, squeezing Cas’s waist as though their dance was just a swaying hug. “And, thanks, Cas,” he added, all teasing suddenly lost from his voice. “I—just—thanks.”

“You’re more than welcome, Dean,” he whispered back, letting Dean draw him in closer, bringing the discussion to an unexpectedly serious close. 

In an instant, Cas felt a wave of…something crash over him, full force. It was nearly too much, to be this close to this man while his own chest simultaneously collapsed and overfilled with a swell of feeling. He tried, again, to blame it on Robert Plant’s melodic declarations of love and the romance swirling in the air, but he wasn’t fooling himself in the least. It was all Dean, the man he had loved before he knew the meaning of the word. It was the man pressing him close and slowly rubbing two fingers at the small of Cas’s back at this very moment, cherishing him as few others had done in nearly three decades of existence. 

_These are the seasons of emotion;_ the room sang out. 

_And like the wind, they rise and fall._

Cas couldn’t decide if this was pain or ecstasy. Most likely both. And either way, it was raising tears in his throat. 

_This is the wonder of devotion – I see the torch we all must hold._

It would be a beautiful death, he thought idly, to drown in green eyes and sunlight. Well worth the trouble. 

Cas took in a slow breath. So, apparently Friday’s melodrama was back. Along with his over-emotional internalization of random song lyrics. Lovely. Well, at least he was consistent. 

The silence persisting between them seemed to thicken as the song began to wind down. The tempo had picked up toward a rock beat, but Dean didn’t seem to register the change as he rocked them slowly. The world, to Cas, had narrowed down to fingers at his back and a pair of broad shoulders, and he could swear he felt a magnetic heat radiating into him, twin to the cascade he sent out himself. Even the thought of that was exhilarating. Terrifying. That Dean might be experiencing this same ignition of emotion? Could he afford to even imagine that possibility? Would he ever recover?

As the final licks of the guitar slowed to their reverberating conclusion, Dean began to lean back, still holding firmly to Cas’s waist. He gazed into Cas’s eyes with an intensity bordering on desperation, and there was nothing to be done but gaze right back. 

Castiel could have held that stare for centuries, lost in fields of emotion too thick to navigate. But just as Dean took in a shaky breath to speak, the next song started playing. 

A very familiar song. 

A very annoying song. 

“Shit,” Dean exclaimed softly, as the unmistakable melody of the Chicken Dance blasted through the hall. Dean opened his eyes, a shameful smirk spreading over his face as he released Cas from his arms. “You might want to get out of the line of fire,” he suggested. “He might actually kick my ass this time.” 

Sure enough, Sam’s howl of “Dammit, Dean!” rang out a moment later, and the Groom once again chased his Best Man out toward the woods. 

Cas shook himself as we watched Sam catch his brother midway across the lawn to deliver a well-deserved noogie. 

Talk about emotional whiplash. What the fuck had just happened? He couldn’t deal with it—not here, not now. He needed a distraction. So, he did what any adult man would do faced with a crisis of the heart: he marched across the dance floor, liberated little Addie from her mother’s arms, and began to teach the child how to do the Chicken Dance.

Toddlers and poultry: the perfect antidote to inconveniently timed feelings. 

\---

Cas occupied himself with the other guests during the remainder of the reception. It wasn’t a difficult choice to justify, really; Dean was the Best Man in a room full of wedding guests. Everyone wanted to chat with him. And if Cas wasn’t particularly keen on figuring out what to say to him just yet? Well, that was his own business. He didn’t think it was out of line to take a couple hours to calm his pulse, still racing from a moment that had so nearly been a kiss. Minefields were better navigated with a cool head, after all. 

The afternoon slid into a breezy evening in bliss around him. Guests wandered the grounds of the property, some even venturing to the lake to snap pictures of the sunset. They cut the cake at dusk, lit from the trees and the mosquito lamps, and for the second time that day, Sam Winchester went off to remove white goop from his luxurious hair – this time in the form of buttercream frosting. Jess looked exceptionally pleased with herself. 

The guests began to leave once the cake had been thoroughly consumed. Thanks to Ash’s brilliant engineering of the parking situation earlier in the day, groups were able to head home at their own pace without car-related drama. Cas found himself being hugged goodbye by a variety of people he barely knew as the night progressed: Professor Moseley, Jody, Donna, Rick, Jan, Laurie, even Garth (though, he was staying the night in the basement, so that was less a “goodbye” hug than a “Garth being Garth” hug). And soon enough it was Sam and Jess being embraced all around as they took off for town, where they would be spending their wedding night in the hotel’s bridal suite. 

Things broke up pretty quickly from there. The caterers were gone and Aaron’s kit was packed, and the rest was to be handled in the morning. Dean had been volunteered to drive the new spouses to their hotel, so Cas took leave of the other exhausted occupants of the lake house and made his way up to the attic alone. 

It was a spectacular evening, clear sky and breeze whipping by to set the stage for the moonlight on the lake. Realizing with surprise that it was only 9:30, Cas opened the sliding window in their attic room and decided to sit on the balcony for a bit. He set his phone to play some soft music, and settled in to enjoy the distant water glinting in the starlight as the quiet descended. 

In the falling stillness on the third-floor balcony, Castiel took a deep breath and let the truths of the weekend wash over him. He knew he needed to do some assessments of the situation—both objective and emotional. It couldn’t be put off any longer. 

So, the facts. He and Dean had reconnected: they had apologized, and rekindled their connection, and had begun to learn each other again. Dean had left Florida, likely never to return, and Castiel had offered his own home as a destination Dean might consider, at least for the remainder of the summer. In purest terms, it was all very straight forward and reasonable. But, of course, nothing is ever that pure. 

In the way that a feeling can ever be a fact, it was clear Cas still had a crush on the elder Winchester son. It had been there all along, really, fueling his pain at being left behind in the first place. And this weekend, with the shared secrets and the heart to hearts and the dancing—well, there was no pretending that Cas’s feelings stopped at friendly or familial. He was hooked, and there was a distinctly non-zero chance that the object of his desire was about to be sleeping on his couch for three months. Brilliant. Nothing like dragging your love as close as possible to remind your traitorous heart how unrequited it all is. 

And, yet, Cas knew he would never rescind his offer. Never in a million years. 

Cas startled only slightly when he heard movement in the bedroom behind him. Self-assessment time was over, then. 

“Aw, man, great song choice,” Dean’s voice called. Castiel’s playlist, largely made up of Motown soul, had just rolled over to Ray Charles’ “Georgia on my Mind”. When Dean spoke again, he was closer, right up against the screen door. “Mind if I join you? I brought cupcakes.”

“Please do.” 

Dean complied, balancing a plate of cupcakes as he emerged onto the balcony to take a seat next to Cas. “You know, this song bugged me the first few times I heard it? I couldn’t figure out if he was singing about the state or about a woman named Georgia. But at some point, I decided it doesn’t really matter, you know? A person—people can be home just as easy as a place. And, I don’t know, maybe sometimes it’s both at once?”

Cas nodded his agreement. “This place certainly feels more right with everyone here.” 

“Yeah, exactly.” There was a brief silence, then, full of music and chewing. Cas wasn’t as tense, here alone in the dark with Dean, as he had expected to be. Whatever would be would be. 

But, then Dean asked a rather ominous question. “Can I ask you something?” 

There was no way around it. He had to agree, even if his anxiety was on high alert. “Sure.”

“I know why I came solo this weekend,” Dean began slowly, “I had to keep up the Lisa thing. But, why did you? I know they offered you a plus one. You could have brought a date. Or even just brought Meg. You know we would have welcomed whoever you wanted to bring, right?”

“Yes, I know. But…” Cas stopped. He had a choice here. He could be dangerously honest, or he could be safe. Something told him this was a moment to be brave. To confess. “You remember that summer I brought Balthazar here with me for the week?”

Dean seemed a bit startled, but nodded. “Of course. He was great. We were glad to have him.”

Cas echoed his nod and braced for the reaction. “I hated it.”

“What??” There it was: exactly the bewilderment he had expected. 

“You guys were all great with him, and he jumped right in with the banter and the bonfire songs and the weird card games, but…the whole time, I felt wrong. I wanted so badly to just be here with you all, but I felt responsible for him, for keeping him entertained, or something, and it basically ruined the week for me.”

“Shit, I had no idea,” Dean replied softly. 

“I mean, good,” Cas said, amused. “The idea was to keep it to myself, at the time.”

“Why?”

Cas looked at him, then. His concern almost shone in the moonlight, a beacon of shame that he hadn’t been enough to invite Cas’s confidence that summer, no doubt. That was no good. “Because it was selfish and gross, and I felt like an asshole the whole time.”

“You’re allowed to have feelings, man,” Dean reminded. “Even negative ones.” 

Cas smiled ruefully. “I know. Or, well, I keep reminding myself of that fact, at least. But at the time I felt like the worst boyfriend on the planet. It took me a few months back up at school to realize that it was more of a tell about the depth of my feelings than a flaw in my ‘boyfriend skills’. It didn’t just matter if he got along with you all – I needed to feel like he was a part of the group on a deeper level, to really slide into place with us like Jess did later on. And I guess I didn’t love him enough to let that happen. That was a pretty intense realization.”

Dean looked at him with an apologetic grimace. “I bet. Is that why you guys broke up?”

“It was part of it, for sure,” Cas admitted. “Though, mostly because it alerted me to the disparity in our feelings. It’s never a good sign when one party is thrilled about how ‘meet the parents’ week went over while the other party is ambivalent. Or worse.”

“Makes sense.”

Trying to return to the original question, Cas continued. “Anyway. I wanted this weekend to go better than ‘Balthazar week’. I wanted to really enjoy all of it with the whole group, without being distracted by some outsider who needed my attention, I guess.” After a breath, he added, “And I think I made the right call, in the end.”

Dean smiled at that. “Yeah. It’s been a great weekend.”

Cas watched him for a while. He seemed relaxed, but—well, it never hurt to check in. “How are you doing?”

Dean looked at Cas thoughtfully, seemingly battling with a decision of his own. “I’m glad Lisa wasn’t here.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “I mean, clearly there’s some shit to come when everyone finds out I lied. And all those expectant relatives were annoying last night and tonight and stuff, but…” He sighed out toward the distant lake before continuing. “I think you had the right idea. Lisa would have taken care of herself just fine up here, but I would have still felt obligated to split my attention a bit. And I would have missed a hell of a lot.” Then he turned his gaze down with a frown. “More than I already did, that is.”

Cas let out a sigh of his own. “Dean, we’ve been over this.”

“I know, I know. But it’s gonna take me longer than two days to forgive myself, you know? I neglected you guys for years, Cas.” He gave Castiel a long look before adding, “Especially you.”

There was a weight to Dean’s words, something deeply important hiding under the guise of a repeated conversation. “And I neglected you right back,” Cas reminded him, trying to be forceful. “Largely out of spite.”

“I guess, but…” Dean turned back into the night, looking stricken. “You didn’t do it because of a lover, you know? When you were with Balthazar, it didn’t change anything about how you kept up with us. I just feel like a stereotypical sell out: I went chasing after a girl and forgot my family. 

“Dean,” Cas began sternly. “You-”

But Dean waved him off. “I know, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. But that’s sure what it feels like.” 

Cas took a moment to center himself. Then he quietly replied, “People change, Dean. Grow up. Move away. It happens.” 

“Maybe,” he acknowledged. “But I don’t want that to be who I am.”

“Okay,” Cas conceded, unable to argue with that logic. “That’s fair.”

“So,” Dean offered, something final in his tone. “I’m working on it.” 

For a while, they just listened to the music in the night wind, let Mary Wells’ smooth melody sweep through the air unmarred. Cas didn’t feel uncomfortable, per se, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should say something. They were picking at the edges of an important conversation, and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out how to dive in. But he also didn’t have the heart to bail out and change the subject. So, they simply sat and listened until Dean, mercifully, spoke up. 

“I have a confession to make.” 

“Oh?”

Dean nodded slowly, not yet looking at Castiel. “I kinda hated that week when Balthazar was here, too.”

That—was not what Cas had been expecting. “You did? But you were so congenial with him.” 

“Yeah, well, he was cool and funny and hot and actually came close to deserving you, so I hated his guts.” He was smirking, but he sounded a bit guilty about it. “But I couldn’t let him know that, now, could I?”

Cas blinked at him. “That doesn’t make any sense, Dean.” 

“‘Course it does, Cas,” he disagreed, a self-deprecating gleam in his eye. “I’d had an embarrassing crush on you for, like, three years, and I was jealous as fuck.”

What, Cas thought wildly, the actual fuck? If he had been drinking at the time, he would have done an honest to goodness spit take. “What?!”

Dean flashed him a little side eye. “Oh, come on, Cas. Everybody knew.” 

“I sure as hell didn’t!” he exclaimed. His head was spinning. 

“Well, that was kind of the goal, man. You were the height of cool, and Jo was teasing me mercilessly about it all the damn time. Not to mention Sam, the little shit.”

Dean still wasn’t looking at him, but he at least seemed amused. Completely incredulous, Cas shook his head. “Dean. I was a super nerd with questionable people skills. Where exactly did you think ‘cool’ entered into that equation?”

Dean rolled his eyes, jumping in before Cas had even gotten the last word all the way out. “You were a low-key genius and a track star. You managed to be smart and talented without being an asshole. That’s one hell of a feat in the hell of high school, and it was cool as fuck.” 

Cas thought his head might explode. How on Earth had Dean Winchester, of all people, thought of him as a high school degree of ‘cool’. Finally, he found his words. “You’re one to talk, mister baseball-star-musician-honor-roll-popular-kid. I once heard two of the hottest girls in my grade refer to you as ‘the only younger guy they’d ever even consider banging’.” 

“Nice air quotes, Cas,” Dean laughed.

But Cas wasn’t over this yet. “Don’t change the subject.”

“If we’re being technical, I believe the actual subject was how I spent most of high school simultaneously wanting to date you and be you.”

And, there it was: the sentence that made Cas short circuit. This was actually happening, and here Cas was having a crisis, and he desperately needed to figure out how to respond. Unable to find an alternative plan, he decided to own up. “Well,” he said, swallowing his last ounce of pride, along with its accompanying panic. “Right back at you.”

There was a pause, then Dean said, “Huh?”

“Just ask Charlie,” Cas replied. He was in it now, might as well let the honesty flow. “The first two years of our friendship was mostly her making fun of me for being in love with a straight boy. And then you came out as bi, so the next few years were her just repeatedly calling me an idiot.”

Well, Dean was sure looking at him now. He blinked several times owlishly. “So. Let me make sure I have this right.” He looked completely bewildered, a deer in the proverbial headlights with green eyes frozen wide. “For roughly 3-4 years, we each had a crush on the other? At the same time? And didn’t figure that out until just now? About a decade later?”

That was one—highly embarrassing, but at least concise—way to put it. “Sure seems that way.”

Dean was nodding like a bobble head, eyes still wide. “Well, fuck.”

“I sort of thought Lisa would have told you about my side of this, to tell you the truth,” Cas offered after a moment. 

Somehow, Dean’s eyes got even wider than that. “Lisa knew?!”

Cas’s head now seemed to be doing the same bobble head thing, only going from side to side. “I mean, I always assumed she could just tell.” Then, quietly, he looked down at his hands and admitted, “I thought perhaps that was why you initially pulled away. Because you or Lisa could tell I was jealous, and it was making you uncomfortable.”

Dean closed his eyes, then, as if pained. “No. That was a fully unintentional loss of contact.”

“Ah,” Cas said, at a loss. “Well.”

In the wake of this came a long pause. Cas’s mind was an echo chamber of the phrase “what the fuck”. And, again, Dean was the one to break the silence, this time with slow, deliberate words. 

“Wait, so. Uh. You were jealous?” Cas nodded, so Dean added, “of…what Lisa and I had?

Oh, how to answer that one? He had made it sound like his crush was isolated to high school. Ought he keep up that charade to protect the fragile status quo? 

The moment sat there – a silent beacon marking the border where before meets so many potential afters. He could just say yes, lie by omission, but—no. He couldn’t. He needed, finally, to be honest. So, would this be an end? Or would his luck finally change? He closed his eyes and leapt off the cliff.

“No,” Cas said, turning to look Dean dead in the eye. “Jealous of what she had.” 

The gaze held for the sort of moment that felt like an eternity. But, then, Dean looked away. “Oh.”

Shit. 

Dean looked uncomfortable, and Cas could feel dread rising in his throat like tears. Wrong call, an alarm blared in his head. He had to get away, so he made to stand up, trying to sound casual and no doubt missing by miles. “Well, I—”

But Dean cut him off, voice quiet and gaze back on the distant water. “Do you remember the summer when my dad rented that little two-man sailboat?”

Thrown but stuck, Cas tried to settle back in his seat. “Of course.”

“There was this day at the end of the week, I don’t know if you remember—”

“When they let us go out in the boat alone,” Cas cut in, desperate to know where the hell this was going. 

Dean flicked a glance his way. “Yeah. And we just floated in the middle of the lake for, I don’t know, hours.” 

“I remember, Dean,” Cas disclosed softly. “I had just come out to your parents that morning. It’s not a day I’d forget.”

Realization lit Dean’s eyes. “Right. I forgot that was the same day.”

Cas nodded, confessing, “I was still sort of stunned by your dad’s relatively positive reaction by the time we got on the boat.”

With a significant expression, Dean said, “I was too, to be honest. If I remember right, a fair amount of that sail was made up of me interrogating you about how you felt as you came out to more people. I was starting to figure my own shit out, you know?”

“Makes sense,” Cas agreed. 

“Anyway.” Dean shook himself a little, as if returning to a point. “That’s one of my favorite memories. To this day. Just you and me, floating on the lake, getting horribly sunburned and talking about…whatever.”

“It was a good day.” 

“Yeah,” Dean said, staring into the dark with intent. “I spent the whole rest of the summer drawing it- I had just learned how to sort of draw people at camp the month before, and I really wanted to capture that day. I wasn’t very good, but I tried. Filled about half a sketchbook trying to get it all right- the proportions, the curl of the waves, the sail in the wind…you.” 

When Dean didn’t continue, Cas offered, “I didn’t know that.”

Dean just nodded, though, before seeming to start a whole new topic. “I didn’t tell you why Lis and I really ended it, did I?”

“Uhh,” Cas was jarred. This conversation was giving him whiplash. “You said that you two decided it had run its course.”

He nodded, yet again. “It was basically my first day off since the holidays, and she was out with some of her girls, so I decided to go through the boxes Mom had sent back with me at Christmas.” He paused, clearly realizing Cas had no clue what he was talking about. “Mom and Dad have cleaned out our rooms back at the house to repaint them,” he explained. “So, I had these boxes of old stuff from when we were growing up. And I found that sketch book in one of the boxes, half full of one of the best days I can remember, and I just—”

Cas waited, but Dean’s words seemed to have cut off like a scratched record. “Dean?”

Dean took an audible breath and tried again. “I feel like when you’re young and everything is in fairy tale and super hero terms, you build this idea that love is all, I don’t know, fireworks displays and rushing to airports and public declarations of devotion. It’s all either sobbing or ecstasy. Drama and overwhelming feeling, always. But then you start to grow up, you watch your crush date someone else, you break a few hearts, get your own broken, and you start to assume your younger self was an idiot for believing the Disney-fied version of love. Life isn’t a chick flick- the world doesn’t all get to live happily ever after, so the rest of it must be an exaggeration, too, right? The poets are just saps, the songwriters are just trying to sell records, none of it is real. I think that’s where Lisa and I had gotten: we were content enough, we got along fine, and we enjoyed sex with each other, and that’s all we really expected to ever need. If love is only comfort and domesticity, then we must be fine. What more is there? But then I was sitting there on a Saturday afternoon looking at these sketches of a day straight out of a dream, and it occurred to me that—no. I know there’s more, because I’ve lived it.”

Cas could feel his heart picking up speed. He thought he might know where this was going, but Dean’s monologue had cut off again, and he needed to be absolutely sure. Again, he prompted, “Dean?”

“You and me,” Dean said, intensely looking at Cas through only his peripheral vision. “We were never, you know, ‘together’. We never kissed, we never dated. Hell, we never even admitted to each other that we might want that sort of romantic thing…”

Cas snorted at that, and thought he saw Dean’s lip quirk toward a smile. 

“But even without any of that,” Dean continued, “we always had this… bond. It was easy and comforting and domestic in its way, sure. But there was also this extra level of excitement to share things with each other, because we knew the excitement would be really mutual. Passion, in its way. It was never like any other relationship in my life, romantic or otherwise.” He furrowed his brow. “At least that’s how I’ve always felt.”

Throat thick, Cas croaked out, “I know what you mean.”

Dean seemed to relax a fraction at Cas’s agreement. “Yeah. It’s real, that nearly-tangible extra spark of connection. And sitting in the house in Florida, looking back on that day, I remembered it—really remembered. So, suddenly, the idea that a big love, the magical kind of love is just an exaggeration? It had to be bullshit. I’d lived it, and it wasn’t with Lisa.” He looked almost terrified, and Cas wondered if this was the first time Dean had said any of this aloud, even to himself. “So, when she got home, we ended it, and as much as that conversation and some of the stuff that came after deeply sucked, I felt kinda liberated. Adrift, sure, like you said. But free and hopeful in a way I’d missed. And more like myself than I had in a while. And mostly, I just missed you like hell.” 

Those green eyes were finally turned Cas’s way again, and he felt his entire focus narrow down to the man taking his hand. “Dean…”

“Look,” Dean said, focus intense, but unaggressive. “I’m not gonna assume anything about how you feel these days, because no one in this house is the same person they were that summer when you came out. But I need you to know that no one has ever made me feel so completely…myself as you have from day one. And that, as far as I can tell, is more than anyone could ever want.”

Castiel thought he might be having a heart attack, but nothing could have felt less relevant. Because Dean was talking about things that Cas thought lived only in the depths of his heart. Words were nowhere near enough. But he should probably say some. “That was quite a speech.”

And, fuck. Dean was forcing a laugh, drawing away like he had been slapped. Like he had been rejected. “Yeah,” he said, sounding strained. 

This would not do. Dean wasn’t allowed to look so sad while Cas’s heart was doing backflips in joy. Unable to contain himself any longer, but still lost for words, Cas grabbed Dean’s retreating hand and dragged the man forward into a kiss. It was shocked and hard and quick, but Castiel could feel the sparks as he drew back half an inch to breathe. “I didn’t say it was an unappreciated speech.”

Dean looked stunned. “Really?”

Cas broke into a grin that nearly hurt. “Really, idiot.”

That surprised a laugh from Dean. “Right, okay, then, great.”

And then, much to Cas’s delight, they were kissing again. And kissing, and kissing…and it was more than even Cas’s hormone-addled teenaged mind could have dreamed. It was hard fought and honestly won, and Cas’s mind was alight with rainbows of pleasure. 

_I wanna be  
_with you_ _

__

It was the voice of Aretha Franklin, vibrant even through the tinny phone speaker. 

Lord, it was happening again. But the music wasn’t mocking this time, and Cas had to break away as he doubled over in low-key-hysterical laughter.

A little wary but still grinning, Dean asked, “Whatcha laughin’ at, Cas?”

When he could breathe, Cas replied, “Sort of a creepily appropriate song for this moment, isn’t it?”

_I wanna be  
_with you_ _

__

That startled a chuckle out of Dean, relaxing away any concern Cas’s laughter had caused. “Definitely how I’m feelin’ at the moment, yeah. 

_Now I’m touching you_  
_holding you_  
_World, you’re gonna see  
_we’ll make out somehow__

____

“Good to know we’re on the same page, then.” 

_We're gonna have it all,_  
_I'll love you every day  
_Baby, life could be so, so great for us__

__

As Cas’s giggles finally faded, Dean stood to hold out his hand to Cas. Rather than leading them inside, though, he drew Cas as close as they had been on the dance floor earlier, and began to sway to the music. They danced and kissed in the moonlight, and Cas felt like he had found Nirvana. How many times had he slept on the other side of that screen door, a lonely teen dreaming of a scene just like this? What deity had decided to grant him this wish, and how on Earth could he begin to thank them?

As the instrumental break began to draw to a close, Dean leaned into his ear and proved Cas’s Nirvana theory insufficient. “Have I ever told you that I love you?”

Well, shit. “Um. No.”

Dean chuckled, hopefully at Cas’s look of shock. “What if I told you now?”

And Cas had thought it was heavenly before… “I think I'd have to admit that I love you too. Have for a while, really.”

 _We’ve got to grab it fast,_ Aretha sang, _because life won’t wait for us._

Cas’s heart felt like it was floating. 

Dean, however, said, “I'll keep that in mind in case I ever decide to tell you.”

This cheeky line earned Dean a head slap. But it was followed by a kiss, so he probably didn’t mind so much. 

They kissed straight through until the song switched over. When they recognized the intro to Otis Redding’s “That’s How Strong My Love Is”, they both burst into laughter again. 

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Dean accused. 

“How?!” Cas asked, lost to hysterics again. 

“I don’t know, magic?” Dean’s smile was brilliant in the moonlight. 

“I swear it’s not my fault,” Cas promised. “But this has been happening to me all weekend.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”

Cas gave his best attempt at a haunted look. “Let’s just say my car stereo was painfully tuned in to my crush on you during the drive here.” 

That made Dean laugh again. “I hear that. I tried listening to Zepp 1 on the road trip up, but I had to stop after the first day. Too many flashbacks to your senior year.”

“Lord, we are the biggest idiots,” Cas said in wonder, shaking his head at their twin ‘unrequited’ crushes. 

As they returned to their dance, Dean spoke up, a new sort of sly hope in his voice. “Do you have to go straight back home tomorrow?”

Intrigued, Cas declared, “Not necessarily. Why?”

“Wanna come with me to my parents’ place for a day or two?”

Cas leaned back to look Dean in the face. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he said easily, kissing Cas quickly with a playful smirk. “Very sure.”

Happy to continue the teasing, Cas squinted accusingly at him. “Is this some kind of kink thing about having me in your childhood bed?”

Cas actually saw Dean’s eyes dilate at that suggestion. “It is now.”

“Weirdo,” Cas chuckled, bizarrely flattered.

Dean shook off his distracted lust. “But, for real. I’d like to have you there.”

“As a buffer when the whole family freaks out on you?” Cas guessed. But Dean’s tone had turned serious. 

“As a boyfriend, if you’ll have me.”

With a blush, Cas whacked Dean lightly on the arm. “You sap. Okay, sure. I can spare a few days to make out like a tween in your parents’ house, if you want.”

This earned Cas a wide smile. “I want.”

The song would down as they continued to make out on the balcony, but after a while a new sound began to float up from an open window in the house below. Snoring. Very loud snoring. 

“Good lord,” Cas exclaimed, leaning away. “Sam wasn’t kidding about Rufus’s problem.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean teased. “I’m pretty glad he snores, really. Means I get you all to myself tonight.”

“You should send him a fruit basket in thanks,” Cas suggested drily.

Dean shook his head. “Nah. Bourbon.”

“Excellent idea.”

With a sigh, Dean said, “and I hate to say it, but we should probably get some sleep too.”

“Mmm, yes,” Cas replied. “Nothing like sleeping in a twin bed, three feet away from your new boyfriend. Sounds very sexy.”

But Dean stood back with a devilish gleam in his eye. “Fuck that. Help me move the night stand.”

Laughing, Cas turned off the music and followed Dean inside, shutting out the sound of Rufus’s snores with the sliding glass door. As silently as possible, they moved the night stand out from between their beds, and slid them together. There wasn’t much to be done about the individual bed linens without waking the rest of the house, but it was still an improvement, anyway. 

Things started to get a bit steamy as they both undressed, each of them finally allowed to really look as the other stripped down. But Cas put a hand up as Dean moved forward, making to remove Cas’s briefs. 

“Dean, you know I love you…” he began. 

Dean raised his eyebrows, looking far too proud of himself. “I do now.”

“Mmhm,” Cas continued firmly. “But I’m not fucking you in a house full of our entire family.”

Teasing clearly evident in his face, Dean pretended to pout at this ultimatum. “Aww, but we made a double bed and everything”

“Uh huh,” Cas agreed, raising an eyebrow. “And either Ellen or Bobby will be washing these sheets in the morning.” 

And, in an instant, Dean’s face had shifted to wide-eyed mortification. “Okay, good point,” he said, backing away. 

So, they left their underwear on. But they fell asleep curled toward each other, holding hands. 

\---

To wake on Sunday and find Dean still there, breathing softly against Castiel’s neck, was a hell of a thing. He had rolled closer in the night, very nearly falling into the crack between the two beds. But his presence was warm and solid pressed along Cas’s side, far too present to be the product of a dream. Even at half awake, Cas’s smile was painfully wide. 

Unfortunately, he didn’t have long to bask in his good fortune. He had been roused by the smell of fresh bacon, and far too soon Ellen’s call to breakfast was interrupting his shameless cataloguing of Dean’s freckles. There were still tasks to be executed today, things to help with, miles to drive before he and Dean could have time to begin working things out.

But, well, that didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little something to hold him over. He woke Dean with a kiss that was well worth the annoyance of morning breath. 

Things weren’t quite as hectic downstairs this morning, thankfully. There were still quite a few people staying in the house, of course—Pam had stayed over in the room Sam vacated for his wedding night. But without the crunch of a strict timeline, they were able to linger a bit more over their food, chat and tease and laugh together before wandering out to roll rugs and load chairs into the rental truck. 

Any thoughts Cas had that it would be easier to keep his gaze off Dean now that he’d had a taste was quickly disproven. They had resolved to keep their hands to themselves this morning—even if Mary and Ellen had shared the news with their respective husbands, that still left six people in the house who believed Dean was happily dating Lisa. No use giving them all the impression of infidelity when they’d all be leaving around noon anyway. Cas only had to hold it together for a couple more hours. 

Against all odds, he managed. As the various other lake house residents packed up their cars for departure, not one of them gave him any kind of confused or reproachful look along with their goodbyes, so he must have been more subtle than he felt. Or, perhaps they were all just too used to him checking Dean out. That was a disquieting thought. But Cas was sure he’d hear all about it when the news began to spread of their relationship, and while it would be a bit embarrassing, at least it would no longer seem pathetic. 

Soon enough, Dean and Cas were effectively the only guests left on the property. The parents would be sticking around slightly longer to close up the house and finish the last of the cleaning, but they waved off all offers to stay and help. 

“No need,” Ellen assured them as Dean offered their services one last time. “Your dad and Bobby are just sweeping up the barn, and apart from the last couple loads in the laundry and the dishwasher there’s not much left to be done.”

“You boys are free to go,” Mary added as she joined them on the porch. 

“If you’re sure,” Cas replied. His skepticism earned him twin unimpressed looks from his surrogate mothers. Sheepishly he added, “which you are, of course. That’s why you said as much.” 

He grinned as the women embraced him in farewell, Mary adding, “Mm, I miss you already, dear,” as she squeezed him extra tight. 

“Actually,” Dean chimed in, “I sorta invited Cas to come back to Lawrence with me for a couple days. That alright?”

Mary lit up with a radiant smile. “Of course it is! How lovely. We’ll get to actually catch up with you, finally, since we didn’t get much downtime this weekend.” With a tender pat to Cas’s cheek, she added, “You know you’re always welcome, Castiel.”

He thanked her, refusing to let her unquestioning acceptance choke him up again. He should be used to it by now, probably, but it never seemed to touch him any less than the first time. 

“Alright,” Mary continued, turning to hug her own son. “We’ll see you both back home, then. Dean, could you put some fresh sheets on Sam’s bed for Cas when you get in? I changed out yours before we left, but I didn’t bother with Sam’s. 

The two boys looked at each other. There was really no use keeping things quiet any longer, was there? Mary and Ellen already knew Dean was a free agent. 

“Actually,” Cas said slowly, aiming for nonchalance as Dean smirked. “That won’t be necessary. But thank you.”

“Of course it is,” Mary argued. “Your dad has tenants in your old house, honey. Where exactly are you planning to sleep?”

“My room,” Dean told her, eyes still glittering in Cas’s direction. 

“Oh, okay,” Mary replied, rolling her eyes. “And where are you planning to sleep then, Dean? In your car?”

Dean’s grin spread as he slid an arm over Cas’s shoulder and turned to his mother. “My room,” he repeated. 

The moments that followed were predictably comical: raised, incredulous eyebrows shifting with shocked slowness to unbridled maternal glee. Ellen let out a vaguely suggestive little “mmm” that set everyone to giggling, and then Mary was hugging both boys with a fierceness that indicated deep, deep emotion. She held them for a full minute before pulling back to simply stare back and forth between them. With a deep breath, she released them from her hold with a hurried, “Go on, then. We’ll see you at home.” Then, with a salacious grin, she added, “John and I won’t be back until at least five, by the way. The house is all yours.” Castiel was sure he had never seen Dean’s ears so red. 

They said their goodbyes and headed off toward the cars, calling a farewell to John and Bobby in the barn as they passed. They loaded their bags into their respective vehicles, and with a happy sigh Dean pulled Castiel in for a deep, lingering kiss on the side of the Impala. 

When they eventually released each other, Dean looked at least as wrecked as Cas felt, gazing right back and panting in the wake. “Okay then,” he said, clearing his throat with his patented smirk back in place. He squeezed Cas one more time, tilting their foreheads together, and said, “see you at home.” 

“Yeah,” Cas said, stars in his eyes of a familiar sunny green. “See you at home, Dean.” And though he rarely called Kansas his home anymore, for once the term had the ring of pure authenticity. 

With a sigh, he watched Dean walk around the Impala, before sliding behind the wheel of his own car. Lord, he was already so far gone. It was a damn good thing Dean seemed to be in the same boat. 

As Cas started up his car, a movement caught his eye. Dean, in his own car, was making a rather outdated but no less clear “roll down your window” motion. Cas complied as Dean started to back out toward the road, and laughed as he heard Dean cheerily belting out the lyrics to an old Billy Joel song along with his blaring speakers. 

_When you look into my eyes_  
_And you see the crazy gypsy in my soul_  
_It always comes as a surprise_  
_When I feel my withered roots begin to grow_  
_Well I never had a place that I could call my very own  
_That's all right, my love, 'cause you're my home__

____

With a shake of the head, Cas backed out to follow the Impala, turning his own stereo back on where the White Album had been paused, and setting off down the road toward Lawrence in a haze of soft joy. 

_Who knows how long I've loved you_  
__You know I love you still__  
_Will I wait a lonely lifetime?_  
_If you want me to I will_

__

_For if I ever saw you_  
_I didn't catch your name_  
_But it never really mattered_  
_I will always feel the same_

 _Love you forever and forever_  
_Love you with all my heart_  
_Love you whenever we're together_  
_Love you when we're apart_

 _And when at last I find you_  
_Your song will fill the air_  
_Sing it loud so I can hear you_  
_Make it easy to be near you_  
_For the things you do endear you to me_  
_Oh, you know I will_  
_I will_

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to pitytheviolins for being my copy editor! (And for tolerating me grumbling for the last year and a half while I slowly wrote this monster...) You're the best <3
> 
> Title comes from the song "This is Me" from Cheryl Wheeler's album Defying Gravity.
> 
> For those interested, here's the complete playlist of the rest of the music that made an appearance throughout the life of this fic (complete with the album from which I pulled each song in my mind, where applicable, in case you're a dork like me who cares about the differences between specific recordings...) 
> 
> 1\. Honestly - Cary Brothers - Scrubs Volume 2  
> 2\. Sideways - Citizen Cope - Scrubs Volume 2  
> 3\. Back in the USSR - The Beatles - The Beatles (White Album)  
> 4\. Dear Prudence - The Beatles - The Beatles (White Album)  
> 5\. Closer to Fine - Indigo Girls - (bonfire tune)  
> 6\. Rocky Raccoon - The Beatles - (bonfire tune)  
> 7\. Unchained Melody - (instrumental during the wedding)  
> 8\. You're My Best Friend - Queen - A Night At The Opera  
> 9\. Save the Last Dance - Dolly Parton - The Great Pretender  
> 10\. The Rain Song - Led Zeppelin - Houses of the Holy  
> 11\. Chicken Dance - SPITZE! - Oktoberfest Party Hits  
> 12\. Georgia On My Mind - Ray Charles & the Count Basie Orchestra - Ray Sings, Basie Swings  
> 13\. Strange Love - Mary Wells - The One Who Really Loves You  
> 14\. I Want To Be With You (The Other Side of the Sky Outtake) - Aretha Franklin - Rare & Unreleased Recordings from the Golden Reign of the Queen of Soul  
> 15\. That's How Strong My Love Is - Otis Redding - The Great Otis Redding Sings Soul Ballads  
> 16\. You're My Home - Billy Joel - Piano Man  
> 17\. I Will - The Beatles - The Beatles (White Album)


End file.
